For Ye Devour Widows' Houses
by AnniellaEyes
Summary: Season 1 altered back-story: Mary married Patrick before he perished on the Titanic and so, with Matthew becoming heir, she has been twice denied her inheritance.
1. Chapter 1

_My first fanfic, which would never have seen the light of day without the beta skills and encouragement of the marvellous AriadneO. I'm still not sure if my premise here is worth building on, so any feedback would be gratefully received. I'm working on the second chapter, but the Duke of Crowborough is making life difficult… should I persevere?_

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><p>Lord Grantham entered the room with a heavy tread and a heavier heart. An air of gloom had already settled over the whole house, and he was the only member of the family that was down. "Carson…" he began, but could not offer his usual morning greeting. "Is it true what they say?"<p>

"I believe so, my Lord." A grave Carson gave the answer he'd expected, but had hoped to God not to receive, because if Carson said something was so, it normally was.

"I don't suppose there are any lists of survivors yet?" A vain hope, a desperate one perhaps, but until he knew better, Robert would not allow himself to fall into despair.

"I understand that most of the ladies were taken off in time."

"Most…" Lord Grantham let that thought trail away as both men looked significantly at each other, their eyes reflecting their mutual thoughts, 'there but for the grace of God,' a reason to be thankful in all of this tragedy. So much loss of life, and while the Earl felt their own situation keenly, he had enough presence of mind and liberal feeling to remember the others taken, on their way to a better life.

He settled at the head of the table and reached for the paper, searching for more news, anything that could confirm or deny what they were facing. The uncertainty was the hardest thing to cope with, although he knew in his heart that there would be little good news to find. Edith entered the room and took up a place at her father's shoulder as she too looked over the news. Her face was pale, her eyes lined pink.

"When Anna told me, I thought she must have dreamt it. Oh Papa…" Her voice trembled as she clutched at his shoulder, and he reached up for her hand, giving it a squeeze and a pat of comfort before she turned for something to occupy herself with over the breakfast table. She sighed slightly as she surveyed the breakfast spread and hoped Mrs. Patmore wouldn't be too put out when not much of it was taken this morning. "I thought it was supposed to be unsinkable." There was a tone of anger in her voice as the shock continued to make itself felt.

"Every mountain is un-climbable until someone climbs it." It was a fairly glib reply to have made, but as Robert reflected on his own philosophy, he couldn't help seeing the truth in it. His small, unhappy smile at Sybil's entrance turned to a frown as she handed him a telegram, and as he read it, the bottom fell from his stomach. There it was, the confirmation he had been searching for. His heirs, the men all his hopes were pinned to were dead.

He raised his eyes to both girls in turn, and then his gaze flitted to the middle of the table where he nodded the grim acknowledgement to the emptiness at the other end of the long room, not able to look again at either of them and unable to speak the words aloud. Sybil, still standing behind her place at the table raised her hand to her mouth and used the other to push herself away from the table, walking around to stand behind Edith and offer comfort to her sister who had again begun to cry. Robert, seeing them together, left to speak to his wife.

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><p>"Is her Ladyship awake?"<p>

"Yes, m'lord," answered a subdued O'Brien. "I'm just taking in her breakfast. She has already heard m'lord. I'm afraid she's very upset."

"We all are. Thank you." He knocked and entered but couldn't bring himself to look at Cora and instead paced to the window.

"Isn't this terrible? Have you heard anything?"

He turned towards her now. She was so beautiful, reposed on the bed he had left contentedly just hours ago. She was framed by a cloud of pillows, and any other morning he would have smiled at the sight, but this morning she looked wan and fidgety with concern. "I've had a telegram from George Murray. One of his partners is in New York. He confirms that James and Patrick were not picked up."

"What? Neither of them?"

"Doesn't look like it."

She paled further. "You must tell Mary. She can't hear about it from anyone else."

Robert nodded and turned away again to the window, looking towards the direction of the Dower House where his eldest was staying with her grandmother while her husband travelled on business. He sighed and thought of the daughter they had named so aptly, for his Mary was _quite_ contrary. How was she going to take the news that her husband was dead and all that it meant for them as a family? Her reactions had always been unpredictable to him but the one he could count on was anger. This was not the life they had promised her on her marriage to Patrick. Her family home, the estate she had grown up on, was to be denied to her for a second time by the entail that kept title and estate together.

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><p>After she was dressed, Lady Grantham walked her husband towards the front door, "We'll all have to go into mourning, of course. O'Brien's sorting out the rest of my black now, and I've told Anna to see what the girls have that still fits. Mary won't have nearly enough, she'll have to have a whole new wardrobe."<p>

"Well, that would have been necessary in a couple of months anyway, wouldn't it."

"She still isn't sure about that."

"Well it's the reason she didn't go with them, thank God. It must be true now, it must! It's been long enough, perhaps we could ask Dr. Clarkson to come and have a look at her."

"But my darling, she doesn't want that. She says she'd like to know herself first, get properly used to the idea. I can understand that."

"Of course, but this alters everything, you won't try to deny it?"

"Yes, but…"

"Talk to her, try and get her to see reason. Get her to see the doctor. I've written for Murray to be here when he can to make everything clear. It will go better if I have something positive to tell him."

As they reached the door, Carson stood in front of it, rather than moving to open it. Robert drew up short, "What is it?"

"The Dowager Countess is in the drawing room, my Lord. Lady Mary is with her."

Cora turned back slightly to look at the room in question, her eyes soft with feeling for her daughter. "They've beaten us to it. How is she, Carson?" she asked fondly, knowing how much the old butler doted on her firstborn.

"I'd say tired, my Lady, subdued, but she's holding together. She's very strong."

Cora smiled tightly, "too strong for her own good, mostly."

"Well, shall we?" Robert held his hand out, indicating for her to go first. To be honest, he was glad they were here and that Cora would be with him through this conversation.

As he entered, he greeted the two women waiting together on the couch, "Mother" he slightly inclined his head with respect to the Dowager Countess before he turned to Mary. "So you've heard. Darling, I'm so very sorry." He approached her, and she stood, receiving his kiss but remained uncharacteristically quiet, her eyes downcast.

Cora also went to her daughter and pulled her into a brief embrace. "I'm sorry too Mary, but I… your father and I can't help feeling how glad we are that you chose not to accompany your husband on his business. That you are here with us is a comfort at this time."

Mary kissed her mother's cheek, and squeezed her hand, before both sat either side of Violet.

"Of course we've heard! Why else would we be here" snapped Violet in answer to her son's initial, rhetorical, question. "I'm very sorry about poor Patrick, of course. He was a nice boy. We were all so fond of him" she briefly took Mary's hand in her own, "But I never cared for James. He was too like his mother and a nastier woman never drew breath."

Mary was roused slightly by this, a quick tilt of her lips at this description of her father-in-law. She had not liked him either- he was a bully, but his death changed her life and Mary could not feel much of anything at the moment except that she was in free-fall, and if there was one thing Mary hated, it was feeling out of control.

"Mother, really! It's very sad that we have lost both Patrick _and_ James. Of course Patrick is more in our thoughts at the moment," he tilted his head towards his silent daughter, "but we must understand what their deaths mean for all of us. Mary, my darling, so far we have not liked to push and have given you the time you have asked for, but really, now…"

He was interrupted by Carson "I'm sorry my Lord but Mr. Carter is here. He knows the situation and does not wish to disturb you, but he says it is quite urgent."

"Of course, Carson, I'll come now. Ladies, you'll excuse me I have business with my steward but will return as soon as possible." As Robert stood he looked meaningfully towards his wife, imploring Cora to continue the conversation he had been approaching. He left rapidly; quite glad to be out of the room and off the topic he thought should be left to the women.

Cora saw the gauntlet he had thrown down, the challenge to get through to arguably their most wilful child, and while she hated to press Mary, especially at this time, she understood why it was important. "Mary, what your father is trying to say is…well, don't you think it's time to confirm the pregnancy? We could send a message for Dr. Clarkson, he could be here in the hour I expect, and then you'll have a better idea." She leaned forward, over Violet and grasped Mary's cold hand in hers, "you'd know if you still had that tiny bit of Patrick, my darling."

Mary raised her head to face her mother. There was no sign of tears, but there was a trace of sadness and shock. Her lack of apparent feeling did not worry her mother, Mary had never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve in public, never showed much emotion other than anger to others, but she also knew her daughter was one who felt things deep in her heart, and would have to work through those feeling in her own time and space. All-in-all she was quite calm, and, having exchanged a glance with her Grandmother, she spoke in such measured tones. It was the meaning of her words that did shock Lady Grantham.

"Mama, there is no pregnancy, there never was".

"What?"

"Patrick will never have a child, there is no baby to be Papa's heir."

"But you said… that was why you stayed in England. You said you thought there was a chance."

"I didn't want to go to America. I didn't want to go with Patrick. It was the only way I could think to get out of it, come home and have some time to myself."

Cora whirled on her mother-in-law, accusation in her eyes, "and you knew this?"

"We talked about it, yes. Only after Mary had come to stay. She told me there was no baby, but that she hadn't wanted to travel and I decided she had given as good an excuse as any. There are always reasons why these things don't come off and there would have been time in the future. Now of course… well, who could have predicted?"

The room was quiet for a moment, as Cora absorbed the shock. She gaped first at her mother-in-law, and then at her daughter, before looking to the window and drawing a deep breath. "We will not tell your father about your dishonesty. He would be crushed. We will only say that you were wrong, it happens, often it happens, and that we are all very upset it is not to be." She paused and looked back to Mary reproachfully, "when I think about poor Patrick, going to his maker thinking he was leaving a wife and child behind."

Mary's face hardened "I only ever said I might be, not that I was. If I had been it would have been early on and as Granny said, even then it may not have come off."

Cora was horrified by Mary's attitude, but then she supposed, Mary had known there was no baby to be sentimental about! She sighed and shook her head. There was so much going on in her head. James and Patrick, and now there was no baby.

This realisation was like the proverbial light bulb had gone off. There was no James and Patrick, and there was to be no baby. There was no heir. She looked to Violet sharply, and the other woman nodded her head in acknowledgment as she saw the pieces come together in her daughter-in-laws eyes.

Robert re-entered the room and re-took his seat opposite with a questioning glance at his wife and mother, his daughter would not meet his gaze and he again felt sorry at having pushed her. Cora stood and walked to him, reached for his hand and gave a small smile that did not reach her eyes.

"My dear, I have spoken with Mary, and your mother, and I'm afraid there is to be no child."

"There is no child?" Again he looked to Mary, a questioning sorrow on his face, but still she would not meet his eyes.

"No."

"Oh." He shifted in his seat looking very worried, and Cora took up a position next to him, hoping to be a comfort. After a moment he remembered himself enough to say, "Mary, I…I am truly sorry. That is a double blow on this sad day, but I cannot imagine how this feels for you."

She looked up and met her father's sympathetic gaze with a nod, but over his shoulder, her mother's disapproving one persisted. "If you'll excuse me, I think I will go and find Sybil. I could use a moment and there will be things for you to discuss." The last carried a bitter edge, and they were all sorry for it, sorry for her, but there was not much they could do about it now and she was right, there was much to discuss.

As Mary left the room she heard the conversation resumed between her parents and grandmother. "Do you know the new heir?"

"Only that there is one…"

She rested her hand on the wall, steadying herself and closed her eyes. With a deep breath, she fortified herself and went to find distraction in her sister.

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><p>Sybil was helping Anna sort through her wardrobe for mourning clothes when Mary found them. For a while she stood and watched. Having developed substantially over the last couple of years, Sybil was wearing the only appropriate thing that really fit her. In her own dour dress Mary sighed, and longed again for distraction. How was there to be any, even in Sybil's comforting presence, when they all had to wear mourning, acting as each other's reminders?<p>

"Oh darling, I do hate seeing you in black. You were not made for such melancholia."

"Mary," Sybil reached for her sister with both arms as she came across the room. "Mary, how are you? I'm so sorry."

"I'm well, Sybil." At her sisters disbelieving look she said "truly I am. Of course it's a bit of a shock, I'm sure it is for all of us. But let us not take on like it was the marriage of the decade, no matter how much the wedding may have been touted the event of the year."

Sybil knew all about her marriage; the plans that had been made for her and Patrick, the dreams of love that had been shattered and the tears that had been shed the morning of Mary's first ball when, so giddy with excitement and happiness over breakfast, it had been explained to her that she could enjoy, but not engage, with the opportunities that were going to come her way, as she was expected to do as she was told. Mary had felt guilty explaining much of her situation to her schoolgirl sister who had only just left the nursery suite, but she had not wanted fairy-tale stories living large in the memory of her sweet playmate if Sybil's dreams were to be ripped away someday, too.

It had already been too late for Edith. Cow-eyed in the presence of her older cousin, fifteen year old Edith had thought it the most perfect fate in the world, the only downside was that it was to be Mary's, her horrid older sister who now got to wear pretty dresses and go to the grown up parties. Why should she listen to Mary, who was just being her usual know-it-all self, and showing off? Who wouldn't want to be married to the charming Patrick?

"But what will you do now? What will happen?"

"I don't know, Sybil dear. I'm really not sure where everything stands. I expect Papa will need to talk to Murray soon… and I suppose at some point there will have to be confirmation that they are gone, truly gone, before any of the legal things can be worked out."

"Will you stay here?"

"I'm not sure. I suppose Patrick's London properties are mine now, but to stay here…when it's what they promised me, Sybil? They promised me if I went along with all their plans and submitted to my fate quietly, this would be my home," her eyes welled up and her chin began to tremble as all her dashed dreams, her futile sacrifices, became clear to her. "They said I could have Downton and it would all be worth it to be happily at home when the time came. Now they are downstairs, looking for some third cousin or twice removed nephew to hand over all my security to- to receive all that was promised to me."

She ended on a sob and Sybil moved them both to the end of her bed and held her as she wept. It didn't last long as Mary was never one to give into her emotions much and, when she raised her head from Sybil's shoulder, the younger girl gave her a grim twist of her lips in an approximation of a smile, squeezed her hands again before dropping them, and returned to her wardrobe. The sisters knew each other well, and Sybil was well aware of the penalty that even she, most beloved, would face if Mary thought she was hovering.

Instead it was best to change the subject; "We're not having much luck here, I'll have to get at least two new day dresses made, but I suppose we could go together. You'll have to have crepes and wool. It'll be awful in summer."

Anna poured Mary a glass of water from the jug on the nightstand and silently passed it over, with a clean handkerchief from Sybil's pile. All three girls knew how blessed they were to have such an attendant who knew her young mistresses', and former mistress', moods well enough to navigate their interactions with deftness.

Mary appreciated their efforts and rallied herself to the topic "Yes, but thank god I won't have to wear a widows cap. I've just had a new dress ordered for the Carmichaels' ball, as well. It was beautiful, a deep red that would look almost plum in candle light. I won't be able to wear it now, but perhaps we could have them do something with it for you when you're back in colours."

"Oh well I'm so glad the death of your husband won't derail you too much, you know, fashion wise. It would just be too horrible if the fair Lady Mary had to cover any of her charms with something as respectful as a cap."

Mary did not even look up at the sound of her sister's voice from the doorway, she was in no mood to fight with Edith, especially as they never seemed to be engaged in the same disagreement when they spoke of Patrick anyway, always talking at cross purposes and half-truths that underlined Edith's wilful misunderstanding of her cousins character. Sybil rallied to her sisters' defence instead, and Mary did not protest.

"Edith, you know a widow's cap is not obligatory anymore, and especially not for someone of Mary's age."

"I suppose Patrick would be grateful to know that you were going into mourning for him at all, I'm surprised you don't consider yourself too 'well bred' to bother."

"He was my husband Edith," Mary snapped, in an attempt to put an end to her bitterness for now. "Whatever the circumstances of our private relationship, _some_ of which you may be privy to, never forget that. I have done, and will do my duty to my husband and my family."

Edith was suitably chastised in the face of her sister's anger and backed down almost immediately. "Well, I did see a beautiful crepe de chine in Ripon when I was in on Tuesday. Perhaps we could all go in together and make sure we have what we need. Sybil will need gloves and a bordered handkerchief, she's never been to a funeral before."

"It's more likely to be a memorial than a funeral, I doubt the bodies will ever be recovered."

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><p>The bodies were not recovered, therefore Mary sent out invitations to the memorial, rather than a funeral, a number of weeks after the black-edged note cards informing family and friends of the demise of her husband and father-in-law. She had returned to the Abbey in order for the customary calls to be paid, and therefore, by the bright morning of the memorial, she could imagine that she had never been married at all, rising with her sisters to take breakfast with her father and undertaking her day as she had prior to her wedding two years ago. The wedding that had taken place in the same village church they walked from now. It could not have looked more different in this sunshine to how it had loomed over her on that very grey day in October.<p>

The question of who was to inherit was discussed over dinner whenever Granny was present, which was frequently. Every time, another stone settled in Mary's stomach and her resentment towards the unknown Mr. Crawley grew. 'It isn't fair' she railed silently on every occasion, and it seemed only Sybil could read her thoughts, clasping her hand whenever possible. Unknown to her, all of her family were sympathetic to her cause, with the exception of Edith, perhaps, but what could be done? The law was the law, and Matthew Crawley was to be foisted on them in the coming months.

She could hear Murray ahead with her father, confirming that the solicitor from Manchester was thoroughly Middle Class and would inherit everything along with her father's title. There was to be no consideration for her having played her part in her parents scheme, beyond the money Patrick had amassed privately. Even her mother's money was not safe and it made her angry that everything could be taken from them, despite everything she had sacrificed.

"Really, Edith. Do you have to put on such an exhibition?" she huffed in exasperation, needing something to take her anger out on. She knew it was unfair to be so sharp with Edith, but really, she was so infuriating, playing the weeping widow in her stead. "He was my husband for heaven's sake, not yours, and I can control myself."

"Then you should be ashamed. It proves what I have always known, that he was too good for you, and you never cared about him."

"Edith," Mary hissed in reply, too low for her father to hear in front but menacing enough to carry her message. "I have listened to a lot of your opinions regarding my husband and our marriage, and I will tell you for the last time, you know very little about it. Kindly keep your idle and incorrect speculation to yourself before I find it in myself to debase you of the truth surrounding the matter and topple the pedestal you have Patrick on. I shall do it before all of the mourners and Papa, and it will break his heart, but I if you cannot keep quiet I shall speak up."

The three girls continued on to the house in silence where Murray excused himself from the party. Clearly, there was nothing else to be discussed.


	2. Chapter 2

_This chapter comes with a massive thank you to my beta AriadneO. She did an amazing job with what I gave her and her insightful comments really challenged my half-arsed conceptualisation of this story and its characters. I hope she approves of the changes I have made since I pulled my socks up!_

_Nothing belongs to me, everything belongs to Julian Fellowes and ITV._

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><p>Despite the changes brought to a house in mourning, an air of calm settled over the Downton household as Mary settled once more into the rhythms of her childhood home. The break of two years was seemingly forgotten as, in many ways, Mary resumed her pre-marital lifestyle and habits. Edith suffered with her loss of position as the eldest, unmarried daughter of the house, but as usual, no one paid overly much attention to the young woman who had struggled all her life to find her place in the family. Sybil found that the close relationship she and her eldest sister had had prior to her marriage, strained somewhat by distance when Mary was in London with her husband, was easily enough resumed. Lord and Lady Grantham welcomed their daughter back into the familial fold with open arms but worried what the future would bring for their most headstrong child.<p>

Some among the servants, namely O'Brien and Thomas, questioned why it should again fall to them to wait, 'hand and foot,' on a woman with a full complement of staff in London. Mary had chosen to leave those hired by her husband close to their families in town; her maid was leaving her to get married in the spring anyway, and the valet had perished with his master, so the small household was in place to serve her when she travelled to London. At Downton, she was happy to return to how things had been, and while it meant once more sharing a maid with her sisters, she was glad to be back under Anna's care.

To the staff that it actually meant extra work for, which was rarely O'Brien or Thomas, the return of Lady Mary was no cause for alarm. She and Anna had always gotten along well, and the extra work was no more than Anna had been accustomed to in previous years. To Mrs. Hughes she represented only one more mouth to feed and room to clean, but Carson relished having her home and could think of little better than being of service to her Ladyship again.

This status quo persisted for a number of quiet months, broken only by the visits of friends and family who came to pay their respects to the bereaved household. James and Patrick were of interest to enough people that such visits were not rare, although they were naturally infrequent and of short duration, as befitted the circumstances. As such, it was not unusual for the topic of visitors to be broached between the Dowager and the present Lady Grantham over tea, as it was one morning some two months after the Titanic was sunk.

"So, the young Duke of Crowborough is inviting himself to stay." Violet pondered this fact as she warmed the pot.

"Well he was a great friend of Patrick's. I suppose he wants to come and pay his respects, although why he was unable to make the memorial he doesn't make clear."

"He was quite fond of Mary during her first season, wasn't he?" she raised a speculative brow.

Cora took her meaning. "Well yes, I suppose so, but he can't possibly be after her now, not while she's in mourning for her husband, his friend. How would it look? "

"Stranger things have happened. Maybe he was in love with her the whole time, maybe he feels it his duty to console his friends widow…"

"And maybe he just wants to pay his respects to the family" was the reply Cora offered her mother-in-law, as sardonically as she dared. "Mary can't be seen to be socialising mere months after her husband's death and certainly not entertaining other gentlemen, in her family's house, with her unmarried sisters present. Let us not get over excited and see this as any sort of opportunity."

"I totally agree, my dear," Violet replied, raising her head imperiously, "and I am doing nothing of the sort, but," she hedged, with a wary look to the other woman, "there is nothing wrong with him coming to pay his respects to the family while she happens to be in residence. Give him a date for when we are all still in mourning. Mary can generally be counted upon to outshine most women in a room, but with the disadvantage of still being in black, while her sisters are out of mourning and back in colours, she may not twinkle quite so brightly."

Cora sighed. The Duke was nice enough, but it was the look of the thing she was concerned about. In a year or two she would welcome the match with open arms, but Mary was still in mourning, and she had the other girls' reputations to think about, and that of the family as a whole. In any case, she was not at all sure that Mary held the Duke in high esteem given; her reaction to the news he was to visit was decidedly cool. "It's not even as if Mary has to remarry. She's comfortable and respectable, what more could we ask for?"

"Our duty in this instance is to Mary's future happiness."

"She would have been happy with Downton, and if your husband hadn't made my sign that absurd act of legal theft we may have been able to get it for her, with or without poor Patrick."

"Had your grandson had been hailed as master, honour would have been satisfied. We did our best on that score, and Mary did everything we asked of her with regards to her marriage to Patrick."

"But there is no grandchild, is there," Cora huffed, still reproachful on the matter whenever it was raised around either Violet or Mary. While her daughter generally showed signs of contrition, in this instance the Dowager merely raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips in disapproval of the tone.

"No, there is not, and so we must make the best of things as the chips have fallen. We can try to ensure that Mary is happy. Perhaps the Duke is what she wants. Even if he is willing to wait out her mourning period, these things naturally take time, if they work out at all. Meanwhile, we can investigate smashing the entail from another angle."

"You know that Robert has seen Murray, and he's at all not optimistic that there's anything we can do."

"I refuse to believe it, and I will keep on fighting, but if it proves as impossible as they say, there may be other avenues to consider for the sake of Mary's happiness, and you and I must act to keep the family's hand in play at Downton! Edith is perhaps not the granddaughter I imagined sitting in our place as Downton's queen, but there's nothing to say she _couldn't_ do it, I suppose. I didn't run Downton for 30 years to see it go, lock, stock and barrel, to a stranger from God knows where! We must maintain a presence."

"Are we to be friends, then?"

"We are allies, my dear, which can be a good deal more effective."

* * *

><p>The Duke's arrival was attended to with all the pomp and ceremony that Carson could muster. It was certainly a great day for Downton, welcoming a Duke under their roof. However the occasion was not without its upsets, and Mary felt for the kindly butler who had been embarrassed by Bates and passed over for Thomas in the space of a few minutes.<p>

Mary was not entirely sure why the Duke was there. He and Patrick had been great friends of course; their exploits across London were not completely unknown to her. She had kept abreast of enough of the gossip to not appear a simpleton in the drawing rooms of London. As a result, she was not a figure of pity and ridicule, but just another rich wife, unconcerned with her husband's whereabouts. She had chosen not to probe too closely for the details of his activities; however, her husband's death and the business of dealing with his estate, had led her to the discovery of more facts than she had been prepared to deal with and left her wary of Crowborough's company.

He had been shown to his rooms by Thomas on entering the house, but the footman had been at work in the dining room a few moments ago. He said that the Duke had left his rooms, but he had not materialised in the drawing room for tea, and she and Sybil had been sent to find him.

"Well, we've scoured all of the third floor. Perhaps he went out into the gardens?"

"I suppose…," Sybil stopped mid-thought on catching sight of the Duke descending a small staircase at the end of the opposite hallway that led to their quarters. "There he is," she continued to Mary, before raising her voice and calling across to him.

"My dear Lady Sybil and Lady Mary, I thank you for coming to find me… I must admit I got quite lost."

The Duke looked a little flustered, but no worse for wear. Mary raised an eyebrow; while Downton was large, it was nothing to Crowborough Park where the Duke had been navigating hallways since birth. "Were you looking for Thomas, your Grace?"

"Not at all, Lady Mary, I just decided on a little exploring." He looked to Sybil with a warm smile that invited understanding. "A quick walk about the house to clear my head from the road. I had no idea I was entering the servants' quarters."

"Of course not," Sybil replied with a smile, sympathetic to his plight. Mary was less convinced, but could see no motive in his actions and so settled for a slow nod of agreement, if with a somewhat sceptical air.

"Shall we return to your mother?" the Duke asked brightly, motioning to Sybil to lead the way and engaging her in chatter. Mary followed silently behind.

* * *

><p>It had been an odd afternoon, Mary decided on reflection. After the necessary expressions of grief and sympathy that she had come to expect from these visits, conversation with the Duke had been pleasant enough, but there was an undercurrent to the proceedings that she could not discern the meaning of. Granny watched Mary's interactions with Crowborough particularly closely but did not move to engage him much herself. She had descended on them for tea and was staying for dinner, a distinction that the Duke seemed to appreciate, although it was a regular enough occurrence for the family. Mama, Edith and Sybil were pleased with their guest, and he had been taken on a brief overview of the grounds by her father. He was, by all accounts, uniformly charming, which was enough to put them at ease. In Mary's experience, that meant he wanted something.<p>

Mama made the first move to interrupt the drawing room party where Sybil had been quizzing the Duke on his mathematical education at school. "If you will excuse us, your Grace, I think it's time to dress for dinner."

"Of course, Lady Grantham," the Duke returned congenially. "I can't tell you how happy I am to be dining _en famille _this evening after the hub-bub of London."

Mary practically had to hold in an unladylike snort at that, knowing how fond the Duke was of Town and all its entertainments. The small family group, in mourning no less, was likely to be a complete bore to their guest. Why was he there?

"Perhaps I might beg an indulgence, Lady Grantham. I'm rather ashamed to say I got a little lost this afternoon on leaving my rooms, and I really have no idea how to get myself back there."

"Let me call a footman for you."

"Please, there's no need for that. I'm sure they are all busy preparing for dinner. You're all going up anyway, perhaps Lady Mary would be kind enough to take a detour and show me the way." The ingratiating smile was flashed first at Lady Grantham before he turned it on Mary, a study of innocence.

Cora exchanged a quick look with Violet before turning to Mary as well. Really, she had little right to ask anything of her now independent daughter, but she smiled at her in entreaty that she might accommodate their guest.

"I'd be delighted," Mary said slowly, looking between the Duke, her mother and her grandmother, baffled by the whole exchange. They traipsed out of the room and up the stairs as a group, but as they approached the corridor that led to the family rooms, Mary was left to go on with him towards the bachelor quarters at the other end of the house.

"I'm grateful to have a minute of your time, Mary."

"Oh?" She was slightly taken aback by the familiarity he seemed to think himself at liberty to use now that they were alone, and her tone carried her annoyance.

He ignored the note of disapproval and continued on, sure in his purpose. "I have something to ask you. As I said earlier, I was terribly sorry to hear about Patrick. I will miss him, but it can be nothing to your loss, of course."

Mary gave him a bland smile. "Of course," she echoed.

"I know it will mean some adjustments for you. Your life will necessarily change, and your poor father has lost two heirs."

Again she answered him with little emotion, willing him to get to the point. "Indeed. It is terrible."

At last they had reached his room. Stopping briefly, she indicated the door with a wave of her hand and moved to return the way they had come, but he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her in front of him and crowding her against the door. Mary gasped and tried to move away, her back straightening against the door and her eyes widening in alarm, but he was not looking at her face but rather lower, to where he placed his hand on her abdomen.

"And your child is left fatherless." The penny dropped, and Mary pushed forcefully away from him and moved into the corridor, continuing to face him but now able to move freely. "Don't be coy and pretend, although you hide it very well. Patrick told me, and he said you were not very far along."

Mary was incensed. "Patrick should not have been talking of such things…"

"Oh come now, he was excited. He had done his duty by you, by your father. Another heir and Downton is safe for another generation."

Mary backed away from him down the corridor, but he pursued her with slow steps.

"Mary…" his head tilted, and he attempted to smile winningly at her. Mary knew it was more predatory than friendly. "For Patrick, will you not let me look after you? You and your child? We could make it look respectable, of course, wait a year, or two if you would prefer, before we marry. Only think of your son; he will need guidance. I mean", he gestured around the corridor, "he may inherit all of this at a very young age."

Mary's anger reached boiling point. "Before you go putting Patrick Crawley II's name down for Eton, or indeed measuring my father for his coffin, you ought perhaps to know that I was wrong, I am not with child."

"Not with child? You can't be serious!"

"Oh, I'm afraid I am. I am also in mourning for my husband, and while I appreciate your sentiments in wanting to look after me," she drawled, letting him know she saw right through his attempts to manipulate Downton and all that it entailed through her fabled off-spring, "I'm not sure that any attentions towards me would be appreciated by my family."

"So the entire estate, your mother's money, is all to go to a perfect stranger?" he blurted inelegantly, the shock making him less careful about concealing his motivations. Tact was pointless by this juncture anyway; she had seen right through him and his honourable pretentions.

"You must know this is hardly something we should be speaking of, but as you brought the situation up, it would seem you are correct. I'm sure the new heir will prove to be less perfect than any child of mine would have been, naturally."

"Very odd thing to joke about."

"No more odd than this conversation. Now, if you'll excuse me, your Grace, I must dress for dinner." She raised an elegant eyebrow. "I trust we'll not be returning to this subject tomorrow with my parents in attendance."

"Tomorrow? Ah…, well, I may have to make my excuses to your parents in the morning. I think perhaps now that I have paid my respects, I should not wish to burden them, or you, at this time."

She mocked him with a look of pretend thoughtfulness. "Yes, perhaps that would be for the best. I trust you will be able to find your own way to dinner?"

"Thank you, Lady Mary." They both turned away, but he called her back before she reached the end of the corridor. "Lady Mary?" She turned and regarded him coolly. "I am truly sorry… about Patrick. He was a good friend to me."

She nodded once on seeing he was sincere. "I'm sorry for your loss, too. Greater than my own, I think; he was a better friend to you than he was a husband to me."

They regarded each other for a long moment before he returned her nod, looking away, and turned to enter the room where Thomas was waiting.

* * *

><p>Thomas hung the towel over the rail as the Duke tightened his robe. "The unknown cousin gets everything, and Mary has little more than the shirts from Patrick's back." Crowborough handed his shirt to the acting valet, who placed it with the rest of the evening's clothes.<p>

"How was I to know? O'Brien said their Lord and Ladyship were almost sure of the pregnancy a couple of months ago, and I've heard nothing since. I suppose the maid that sees to the girls would have known, but Anna's the quiet sort, if you know what I mean."

"You weren't to know," the Duke reassured as he poured himself a nightcap from the decanter, taking his glass to the bed where he sat down. "You did the right thing to telegraph me. It was a risky ploy anyway as any child could have been a girl, but I thought he might have broken the entail if there was Mary and a grandchild to think of. Still, it's not as if we could have become publically engaged, if it had been a girl… Well, never mind all that now. You know how I'm fixed, I have to have an heiress if it means going to New York to find one."

Thomas knelt at the Duke's feet and proceeded to remove his shoes.

* * *

><p>"So the Duke has gone?" asked Violet the next day when the two older Crawley ladies met again over tea.<p>

Cora reached for one of the cakes on the tea stand between them, looking at it judiciously before placing it on the plate with a small sigh. "So it would seem. I asked Mary about their conversation. She looked highly amused, but wouldn't say much."

"Well, it was a long shot, I suppose. She's probably better off observing her mourning and seeing what comes later. She's still young; we can send her back to London at the end of it if she likes."

"Robert is writing to the new heir this morning. Everyone but Mary will be in half mourning by the end of the month, and Robert wants to go to London to meet him before bringing him here."

Violet placed her cup rather violently on the saucer in front of her. "I should hope so, too. We must take stock of this individual; he may very well be an axe murderer or worse, an h-dropping, union member!"


	3. Chapter 3

_My beta Ariadne0 works wonders with what I give her. I am extremely grateful for the time she gives me. _

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><p>"Mary." Her father sighed and looked at her with compassion, but it was clear to Mary that the <em>discussion<em> they had been having for the last half an hour was having no effect on his stance. "I understand how hard this must be for you, and we are all sorry for it…"

She stopped in front of the sofa in her father's library, a room that had until now brought her comfort, and peered down at him with scorn clear in her eyes. "Oh you understand, Papa? I must have missed the story in the Crawley family annals where at some point Downton was going to be denied to you." Mary threw her hands into the air in agitation and resumed her pacing. "When it was going to be handed, wholesale, to some butcher from Bristol or baker from Birmingham or candlestick maker from Cardiff!"

"Mary! Watch your tone when you speak to your father."

Robert waved away his wife's concerns. His daughter was understandably upset, however he could not let her continue in her delusions. "There is nothing that can be done about it. Matthew Crawley is my heir..."

"Patrick was your heir, and I was his _wife_. I am _your_ firstborn. How is it possible that this _man_ whom nobody had even heard of six months ago, who has never set foot in this house, has more right to expect to call it his home, his future, than I do?"

"Nothing's settled yet, my darling. Not while your grandmother breathes air." Mary's mother tried to placate her, but really, her father was being insufferable.

"I'm afraid it is settled, my dearest one, whether you, mother or Mary like it or not." Cora's eyes widened at his lack of tact, flittering quickly between him and Mary, berating him with a look just as she had verbally rebuked his sparring partner moments ago.

Robert closed his eyes and took a deep breath before getting up and approaching his daughter. Taking her hands in his, he stopped her march about the room and bent his head to her in a successful attempt to establish eye contact. "Mary, my darling girl, you have done everything we asked of you, and I could not be more proud of my dutiful daughter." Mary started sobbing as her anger and resentment overwhelmed her. Her father was _proud_ of her? She couldn't take that to the bank, and it wouldn't keep this roof over her head.

"I am sorry that it did not work out as we had planned, but there was no way we could have predicted this. We did what we could to secure your future, and we will continue to try and make you happy, but I have to ensure the succession, and I cannot take your mother's money out and leave my heir a landless peer with a title but no means to pay for it. If I had made my own fortune and bought Downton for myself, it should be yours without question. And it should be yours if your husband had bought the house and land. But we did not. This fortune is the work of others, who laboured to build a great dynasty. Do I have the right to destroy their work, or impoverish that dynasty?"

Mary blotted her eyes, but the tears continued. "You told me that if I married into that dynasty, as well as being born to it, everything would be mine. You promised me so faithfully, but now I'm just to take the fraction of the wealth and prestige Patrick has left me and get out of the way?"

"This will be your home as long as I am alive, and I hope that will not be a short interval. Matthew seems an honourable young man; he will not throw your mother or anyone else living here into the hedgerows the minute he inherits, I'm sure. Many things may change in that time, my darling. Who knows where we will all be by then. In the meantime, Matthew Crawley is coming to Downton in three days to settle here and he will inherit my title and my house."

"Then I must go to London for a while, Papa. I cannot be here to welcome that man into my home. I won't be able to smile as he appraises the silverware, stand back when he counts the drawing rooms or keep my head as you introduce him to the tenants that I… that I have been looking after since I was old enough to hold a basket."

"Mary, Matthew and his mother are coming to meet the family…"

"But I cannot be seen to be socialising with new acquaintances." For once her mourning status was going to be useful. "Once they have been established as family members to all and sundry who care to talk about these things, it will not look so bad when I return. With that time to myself, I may be able to meet him then with some degree of equanimity."

Cora knew that Mary was right; she shouldn't be seen to be meeting people in what was essentially a party of pleasure at this point, no matter how little pleasure it would give her. She also knew that her daughter was making excuses; after all, they _were_ family. But she was willing to go along with it for the look of the thing, as well as her daughter's current peace of mind, and spoke up from the sofa. "If you think it for the best, Mary, of course you must go."

Mary and Robert turned from their semi-embrace to look at her, and Mary nodded once in gratitude. Robert gave a sigh of reluctant acceptance and a small gesture of defeat. Mary would go to London resenting the new heir, and he would have to welcome him with open arms when he arrived in three days.

* * *

><p>Matthew may have been expected at the big house three days following, but he arrived in the village the morning after Mary had voiced her resolution to go to London. He came up from Manchester on the train with the small staff they had retained from his mother's house. As a man who prided himself on being prepared, he had not liked the sensation of being knocked off-kilter by Lord Grantham's life-changing letter. He was determined to be as prepared as he could be for what was to befall him. His mother informed him that his behaviour would look very odd should his new cousins learn he had arrived without a proper announcement and welcome, but he was not deterred.<p>

New cousins. That was yet another thing to think about. For so long, it had been just him and his mother. Even before that, when his father was alive, there was just the three of them, living quietly but contentedly in Manchester. Of course he had known that there was extended family- everyone had some somewhere, nobody just appeared on the earth. He had even known there was a link to the aristocracy not too far back- he could remember his father speaking of having met Cousin Robert, the Earl of Grantham, at one point when they were both young men. But to suddenly have a whole fruitful and still blooming branch of the family tree thrust upon him, not to mention the estate and title, was a huge change to Matthew's previously sedate life.

After confirming that there really was no mechanism for him to refuse the title, Matthew had researched as much as he could from Manchester so that he had some idea of what he was getting himself into with regards to the family's more recent history, the estate and the local area. Aside from the tragedy of the Titanic and general lack of male heirs, there was not much to know of the family. Two daughters of the family were still unmarried and Matthew inwardly shuddered at the implications for his own bachelor status, particularly knowing that a third daughter had been widowed by the aforementioned disaster which had carried off the other heirs.

The estate he had been better able to acquaint himself with, initially by drawing on the land deeds and various pertinent contracts available to him through his office, and then on a walk about the tenant properties on his arrival the day before. He was pleasantly surprised to note that the cottages were undergoing or had seen recent renovation, and he decided that Lord Grantham must be a very liberal master, an impression that did not wholly fit with what he had seen of the man when they met in London.

There was not much to be said about the village of Downton; the hamlet had sprung up around the original house on the estate and had grown but was still as quaint as one could expect in this rural part of Yorkshire. Ripon, the closest town, had a little more to offer him in terms of employment and he had taken a job with a small firm there. He wouldn't let them change him by turning him into one of their kind, with pleasure seeking as his sole employment. He would be his own man.

Despite being small, Downton village was beautiful, and as Matthew made his way to the train station, he could imagine glimpses of his future life in and around these cobbled streets. It would be very different from his life in Manchester. He'd had a promising career with the firm that had hired him straight from university and he had worked hard for them, but his new existence wouldn't be all bad. The partners had been understandably shocked when he had explained all that had occurred with Lord Grantham, but had patted him on the back and wished him well. He'd not had time to pack up all of his belongings at the office, having prioritised his mother's home and her comfort in the move, so he had offered to make the trip back at some point to get his personal affects. The partners had waved him off and made plans to send Adam, the young man who had kept his ledgers. Matthew was to meet him off the next north-bound train through Downton and send him straight back south; his last orders from his Manchester employers.

He was a little early at the station - Adam's train was due in twenty-four minutes - so Matthew settled in to people watch, setting a book aside for if he got bored. A lot of activity on the other side of the tracks drew his attention to where the London train was due in the next ten minutes. A little girl in particular drew his gaze as she was energetically hopping up and down the platform, her blazing red plaits flying out behind her. She was a little too close to the edge for comfort, but the copper-haired family she clearly belonged to were paying her no attention. Instead, she was only being observed by… the most stunning woman he had ever seen.

She was sat on a bench and huddled against the cool of the early autumn morning. Clearly in mourning for someone, the heavy crape over her coat made it difficult to see anything of her figure, but her face was thin, and her dark clothing emphasised his impression that she could have been Snow White, setting off her porcelain skin and ebony hair. He couldn't look away, and he was sure he was gaping in the most unseemly vacant and rude manner. She was beautiful and nothing, none of his early reconnaissance at Downton or indeed groundwork throughout his life in Manchester, had prepared him for the shock that ran through his body when her cool gaze caught him staring.

Matthew eventually felt the shame in his observation and, flushing, dropped eye contact momentarily. He could not look away for long and found on returning his gaze to her that she had not demurred as he had expected. Far from the embarrassment young ladies usually expressed when they caught men staring at them, her reaction was to raise an elegant brow. Matthew decided that this woman was probably used to the attention. He picked up his book and tried, largely in vain, to leave her to herself until her train arrived.

* * *

><p>Mary leaned further back on the uncomfortable rail-side bench, absently brushing a speck of lint off of her coat as her mind took her through the events of the last two days again. Lord Grantham had announced the imminent arrival Matthew Crawley to the rest of the family, and therefore the servants, yesterday over dinner. Mary's entrenched resentment of her father's new heir increased exponentially with each subsequent mention of him name, each inane question asked by her sisters and each new piece of information revealed about the interloper. While she was able to go on living at Downton for as long as her father was hale and hearty, she was already being pushed from her home by the anger this stranger stirred within her. Downton could never feel the same, not now that it was eventually to be taken from her and while this Matthew Crawley could not be blamed for being born a male any more than she could for being a female, it was impossible for her not to see him as the orchestrator of her fate, the embodiment of all her lost dreams.<p>

She breathed deeply in appreciation of the relative calm of the cool morning, a stark contrast to the hot anger that raged within her and blazed a trail behind her over the last couple of days. Edith had, as usual, borne the brunt of her fiery words, and she knew she should apologise, but the easiest way to make amends was just to leave and give them all peace. The black mood she was in matched the collar of the coat she settled further into, but she was enjoying watching the people move around her as they waited for the train.

The station was one of the few places in the village she could go to see people other than her family or the servants going about their daily lives without always deferring to her. It was one of the reasons she was so relieved that she had been able to convince her father that, with Harrison, her London chauffer, picking her up from Victoria, she did not need to be chaperoned. A little girl was playing hopscotch on the platform a little too close to the track edge for Mary's comfort, and she flinched as she watched her bound up and down the narrow space. The child's mother was seemingly completely unconcerned, but every time she wobbled precariously while hopping over number 8, Mary had to look away before she did something completely embarrassing, like snatching the child up and bodily moving her from imminent danger. Looking to the other side of the tracks to distract herself from images of the child plummeting onto the rails, she caught a flash of blue in the grey morning and found herself captured by the gaze of the man opposite.

He was watching her intently, and she sent him a look that questioned his audacity, while taking the chance to study him openly in return. His shock of blond hair and baby blue eyes set in a round face gave him a boyish look, although she judged him to be at least a year or two older than herself. He was on a larger scale that either her father or Patrick, but by no means fat, just broad in the shoulders and solidly built. It surprised her to notice that he had rather a large and dull looking volume with him, although it was not open. He did not look the scholarly sort…more outdoorsy, she decided.

He dropped her gaze suddenly as colour diffused his cheeks, and she was somewhat charmed by the mannerism that matched his youthful appearance. He was certainly not someone she had seen around the area; someone as attractive as him would have piqued her interest. Of course, the local village boys were below her particular notice, but she was not blind and growing up, one or two had caught her attention. However, this was a different creature entirely and despite his well-cut clothes, he was not of any of the local families of her set- she had toyed with most of those young men at some point and he had not been among that number. She may have missed him, living in London for the last two years, she supposed, but still, he must have been travelling through the village, otherwise Granny, or certainly Edith, would have mentioned him and how much he had in the bank.

Mary watched him pluck his book from the bench next to him, still sending her furtive glances. She finally gave up her observation of him with a rueful smirk as the first sounds of her train reached her, getting up from the bench and moving towards the edge of the platform. Straightening her shoulders, she mentally prepared herself for her journey to London and softly groaned as she remembered she had to change trains at Crewe. How did every train journey across the British Isles somehow end up going through Crewe?

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading, I'll try and get the next chapter out in the next couple of days. <em>

_Let me know what you think- I'm having a bit of a crisis of confidence, there are so many great fics for this 'ship at the moment! _


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to my beta, Ariadne0, for all of her hard work on this chapter. Without her input this story wouldn't happen.

Nothing belongs to me. Everything belongs to Julian Fellowes, ITV and Carnival.

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><p>Mary had made quick work of moving all of Patrick's things from the study in London and turning the room into her own space. As a result, she felt quite at ease there, or as at ease as she ever felt in her marital home. Despite her surroundings, she was not comfortable with the current conversation and was getting more riled every minute by the odious little man that the male members of her family chose to do business with.<p>

"As I've said, I simply want them out of my properties. They _are_ mine now, aren't they? My husband's estate left them to me?"

"Indeed, my lady, they are yours, but I'm afraid they were left to you in such a way…"

Mary made a noise of incensed frustration and pushed up from the desk, walking behind her chair in an attempt to put more distance between herself and Murray before she actually took a swing at him. "I am sick of the tangled legal webs you men are so fond of creating in order to ensure your continued unchallenged reign in all things. Entails and contracts and _legal_ _understandings_ that are written by men like you to allow your control over women like me, for our own good, I suppose. Why should we women possibly be bothered with the details for such things when clearly they are beyond our limited understanding? I shall put my question in small words that we can both be assured to fully comprehend: how could it be that these houses are mine, but I have no say as to who lives in them?"

"You must understand, Lady Mary, that Mr Crawley sold the lifetime leases to these individuals."

"I do understand that, I have the paperwork here that discusses the transaction; what I am missing are the details. How much did these contracts sell for? How much would I have to pay out to buy them out?"

"Well…erm, you see Lady Mary, that in both cases it was more a-a-a a gesture of good faith, if you will."

"How much?"

"A farthing."

Mary closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose before moving to slump back into her chair, putting her at eye level with Murray. "These people paid Patrick a quarter of a penny to live in my houses for life?"

"Well, yes…of course they pay their annual rents and taxes on the properties as well..."

Mary waved away his excuses. She could get other people to pay rents and taxes on the houses; the point was she wanted _these_ tenants out of her life. "I want them out. I understand the payment for the lifelong tenancy agreement was a _gesture_ and therefore I am prepared to buy them out for considerably more. Make them an offer based on how long they have been in residence, make it an attractive one and get them out."

"I'm afraid you still don't understand. A number of business contracts would have to be dissolved in order for these tenants to move on. These are contracts that bind the late Mr Crawley's estate to the interests of a number of other businessmen, and they are not looking to put an end to the current arrangements."

"Oh, I'm sure they are not," Mary drawled in reply. She leaned over the desk, forcing eye contact with the man opposite, who she was pleased to see squirm at her actions. "Did you know the nature of these… 'business contracts?'"

Murray hesitated and wiped his brow. "Well yes…I acted on behalf of Mr Crawley on their inception. They were long-standing arrangements."

Mary's look of mock surprise as she leaned further over the table made Murray squirm even more. "Long-standing? You are suggesting that these tenants were in place before my marriage? In fact," she pulled a piece of paper from the pile in front of her, "I can see that they were. Why, Hogarth Road has been occupied by the current inhabitant for six years and Avondale Drive was subsequently brought and the tenant found in _very_ short order some four years ago this March."

"Yes. They _do_ bring in some of the money Mr Crawley left to you."

"Those portions of money that I have had diverted straight to my charitable trusts. Back to the matter at hand: these tenants, these business contracts, they were in place prior to my wedding?" She waited for his nod of re-confirmation before continuing, "Yet you did not feel the need to inform my father, another of your employers, of them at that point? Of their existence or their nature? The point at which you were contacted to deal with the legalities of the match?"

He sat back affronted. "My dear Lady Mary, while you find yourself in… some unenviable circumstances, and I am sorry for it, I must insist that you understand that all of my work is undertaken on a confidential basis. I could no more have made you and your father aware of my work for Mr Patrick that I could tell you the contents of your father's will."

She snorted. "I know the contents of my father's will, Mr Murray. He has shared that information with me." She paused. "Mr Murray, I'm afraid I will be looking for other representation in this matter, and I will, over time, be lessening your involvement with my concerns to the point where you no longer represent me in any of my dealings. When I can bring myself to speak to my father of these matters, I will be suggesting that he does the same. Good day to you, sir."

* * *

><p>As Mary was dismissing Murray in London, Matthew was welcoming his mother to Crawley House. Thankfully, the new butler that scuttled towards them from the direction of the big house seemed to miss the fact that he had not exited the car at the same time as Isobel, so there were no awkward questions about his stay in the village prior to her arrival.<p>

"I'll just give Mr Taylor a hand with the cases."

Mr Molesley made towards the house before Matthew could make his protestations heard. "I can..."

"Thank you, Molesley." Matthew rolled his eyes and led his mother into her new drawing room.

"Oh, Ellen, this is much better than I thought it would be. You have done well."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Molesley entered the room again and Matthew watched, dismayed, as the man _fussed_ with things that they were perfectly capable of taking care of.

"Would you like this in here, ma'am, or taken up to your room?" Isobel indicated the sideboard and Molesley left the room again. Of course the house was not a particularly large one, and he did not go far. Therefore he overheard much of the conversation that followed between Mrs Crawley and her son.

"Well, he can go right now."

"Why?"

"Because we do not need a butler, or a valet, if it comes to that. I won't let them change me."

"Why would they want to?"

"Mother, Lord Grantham has made the unwelcome discovery that his heir is a middle-class lawyer, and the son of a middle class doctor."

"Upper middle class."

"He wants to limit the damage by turning me into one of his own kind."

Neither of the occupants of the drawing room heard the knock at the door, or the admission of their visitor. The young woman in question did however also hear the rest of the conversation taking place between mother and son as she was led down the short hallway.

"He has little choice in the matter of who you are. _You_ willbe the earl and _you_ will inherit the estate."

"And before they, or you, get any ideas, _I_ will choose my own wife."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"They'll push one of the daughters at me. They'll have fixed on that when they heard I was a bachelor. It's clearly how they were planning to hold onto the riches with the last heir."

Molesley gave Lady Edith a regretful look as he pushed open the door - his new employer clearly had a knack of sticking his foot in his mouth - but Edith took it easily in her stride. It was obvious to her that poor Mr Crawley was overwhelmed by the move and the news of his entitlement. Her mother and grandmother were right to send her to welcome him; after all, he hadn't even met anyone other than Papa yet. Of course he was wary of them, but he would learn how nice they were. Everyone currently present at Downton, anyway.

"Lady Edith Crawley." Edith entered when announced and took in the pleasant older woman along with her blushing son. He was fair and tall and not at all like Patrick except in the eyes, and Edith was instantly captivated by his pretty blue eyes. She too blushed, and looked away coyly as she shook hands, not accustomed to being in the position of family spokesperson, particularly not with people that looked like him.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting; you really must be busy."

His mother stepped forward in welcome. "Lady Edith..."

"You must call me Cousin Edith, or just Edith, please. Mama has sent me down to welcome you and to ask you dine with us tonight. Unless you're too tired, of course." She turned slightly to give Cousin Matthew a sweet smile; clearly he was tired and irritable.

Matthew smiled back in relief; clearly she hadn't heard him or hadn't taken his meaning, otherwise surely she would have taken offence. Of course, he guiltily reasoned to himself, it was only _actually_ offensive if it was not true, and from the look of their welcoming committee, he felt he should have carried his point with his mother. He turned his smile on her with raised brows.

Isobel tried desperately not to smile at her son's knowing expression; she acknowledged his point but wanted to refrain from encouraging him. She turned once more to Edith. "Will you stay and have some tea?"

"I'd be delighted." She certainly looked it.

* * *

><p>Later, Cora quizzed Edith as they descended to meet their new family members for dinner. "So what are they like?"<p>

"She's nice enough, but he's…oh Mama, he's so charming."

Her mother grinned widely and gripped Edith's elbow. "Really? Why do you say that?"

Edith blushed and smiled back. "Let's go down, and you can see for yourself!"

"Well, your grandmother will be pleased you are getting along so well, and so am I. I expected them to delay joining us for dinner until tomorrow at the earliest so to have them come to dinner on their first night means you must have done very well today, my darling." Edith beamed at the often sought but rarely received praise from her mother.

* * *

><p>"Do you think you'll enjoy village life? It'll be very quiet after life in the city." Robert was very pleased with how the evening was going so far. It would be perfect if his mother could restrain herself.<p>

"Even Manchester." Violet tittered to herself, scoffing gently at Isobel's answer to her son's inquiry.

"I'm sure I'll find something to keep me busy."

"You might like the hospital."

Matthew smiled to see his mother engaging with the family. She had enjoyed Edith's visit earlier and Cousin Cora's suggestion for filling her days would suit her to a T. Helping at the village's cottage hospital would be a valuable contribution, as long as she could remember that she would never simply be thought of as Matron in _this_ village.

A footman interrupted his contemplation of what his mother would do with her time in. "I will hold it steady and you can help yourself, sir."

"Yes, I know. Thank you."

"Really Thomas, I'm sure Cousin Matthew can manage."

"Thank you, Cousin Edith. I am accustomed to a different life than this, it's true, but I can serve myself at dinner." He gave her a grateful smile.

"What will you do with _your_ time?" Sybil asked thoughtfully. The young girl had already fitted more questions about the law into their initial three-minute introductory conversation than Matthew would have thought possible. She had slowed down her interrogation over dinner, but he got the impression she would be the only person present to approve of his decision.

"I've got a job in Ripon. I said I'll start tomorrow."

"A job?" He was completely right; while Sybil beamed at him, the rest of the table, aside from his mother, looked horrified.

"In a partnership. You might have heard of it, Harvell and Carter. They need someone who understands industrial law, I'm glad to say. Although I'm afraid most of it will be wills and conveyancing."

"You do know I mean to involve you in the running of the estate?" Robert asked, still not completely hiding his horror at the announcement.

"Well, don't worry. There are plenty of hours in the day. And of course I'll have the weekend."

"We'll discuss this later. We mustn't bore the ladies."

"What is a weekend?" Matthew smirked and looked away. Cousin Violet was a pill, but then he wasn't entirely sure if she was joking.

"You don't have other plans for your weekends?" Edith interjected. Matthew gave her a quizzical smile, not sure what she was asking. "Do you not have hobbies or interests?"

"Ah, well, of course. I like to read, and I like to be out of doors. I'm going to be taking an interest in the estate, obviously," he raised his glass to Lord Grantham, "but I'd also like to learn more about the village and wider area."

"Well, I could always help…" Edith was cut off by Sybil's exuberance and Matthew turned in his chair to face his excitable cousin. Edith was momentarily disheartened, but with encouraging looks from her grandmother and mother, she attended to the conversation next to her.

"What sort of things do you like to read?"

"Well, I quite like the work of Mr Dickens - he inspired my interest in the law actually - but my guilty pleasure is Greek mythology which I have loved since I was a child."

Edith thought she saw another opening and took it before Sybil could distract him further. "You mean like the stories of Romulus and Remus?"

Matthew brought his serviette to his mouth to cover his smile but Sybil, in her guileless youth, was not as subtle in correcting her sister.

"Oh Edith, those are the Roman mythologies, even I know that."

Matthew felt bad for the poor girl; she was clearly trying to be friendly and take an interest. "Well that's true, Sybil, but really, many of the characters and stories are roughly the same, having been co-opted by both traditions. It's a very easy mistake to make."

"You'll have to forgive Edith and me, Cousin Matthew, our tastes run more to Austen and Elliot, and that's only when we're looking for a _challenging_ read. Mary is our classicist, indeed our literary scholar. You'll have to talk to her about your choices when she gets back from London. Papa says her reading of Greek and Latin surpassed his schoolboy accomplishments when she was twelve."

"Ah yes, Lady Mary. She's in London you say?" Matthew had a mental image of a bookish young woman; a cross between Edith's gentle, fair prettiness, and Sybil's swarthy, voluptuous beauty. The visage wasn't a complete success in his mind's eye, and he wondered if Mary was the plain sister, married young by virtue of being the eldest and to secure family ties. "Will we be meeting her soon?"

Lady Grantham answered him from across the table. "I should hope so. Mary is of course still in mourning for her late husband and did not feel it entirely appropriate to be meeting new people at this time."

His mother, in her sympathy, answered for both of them, "Of course we understand. The poor girl was quite recently bereaved after all. "

Matthew didn't miss the significant look that passed between Sybil and Edith on either side of him, nor the fact that Edith sat further back in her chair at the mention of her sister, pouting in a thoroughly petulant manner. "Yes, of course. Mother and I look forward to meeting her on her return." _Particularly if its mere mention could produce this sort of reaction_, he thought, amused.

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><p>After dinner, Robert settled in with Matthew, his port and cigars for the duration. Their talk that evening would be a long one, and neither saw it ending before it would be time for Matthew to collect his mother to make their way back to the village.<p>

"I understand that you have already taken a look around the estate."

Matthew looked somewhat abashed and dropped his gaze.

"Come, come Matthew, it's quite alright. To be honest, it makes me very happy that you wanted to see the place and get an eye for the challenge ahead of you. Perkins, my game-keeper, saw you yesterday at the east pond. What were your initial impressions?"

"I'm afraid this evening is the first time I've set eyes on the house itself. In my wanderings, I mainly kept to the outer lands and tenant properties."

"Yes, of course. Didn't want to be rumbled being up here before your time, eh."

"Well, quite."

"And your thoughts on what you did see?"

"Very favourable. I saw some of the renovations that you have undertaken at the tenant farms and was told that there is a larger programme of work in development."

"Yes, I'm rather proud of it, to be honest. I'm afraid I had been rather neglectful in that respect until quite recently, but the new scheme of work should vastly improve the lifestyle of the tenants, and a happy workforce on the land can only be a good thing for Downton."

"Indeed. What prompted your re-interest in them, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Not at all. It was the marriage of my daughter, Mary, actually. A number of changes were suggested, and I thought they could only add to the success of the place.

"I'm very sorry that you should have lost such a proactive heir. I can only hope to do half as well."

"Oh, it wasn't Patrick who suggested the changes; at least, not directly. Patrick was in and out of this house since the day he was born, but he took very little interest in it. No, it was Mary who was the driving force behind the changes. I'm sure some of her good sense would have rubbed off on Patrick in the long run, particularly when the time came for him to take up my mantle, but he was still young. He enjoyed his life in London, and to be honest, he was a bit of a fop."

Matthew was somewhat surprised, not only by this information, but also the implications. "Really? So it was Lady Mary who initiated the work on the cottages. It seems that Downton would have had a fierce protector in her, had she been allowed to inherit. I wonder that you didn't challenge the entail in her favour."

"Not the done thing, I'm afraid, my boy. Just not the done thing. Mary would have made a fine countess, but really, the place needs a firm hand."

The conversation moved on to other matters but Matthew recalled his earlier musings about the disparate impressions he received from the upkeep of the cottages and his initial meeting with the man before him. He had pegged him right after all- there was no breakaway liberal here. His sympathies lay with the forward thinking Lady Mary, a woman he was increasingly interested in meeting.

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><p><em>Thanks for all the great reviews on the last chapter, they really do make my day, so let me know what you think. <em>

_I'm going to try and have M and M meet before Christmas, but it may be a couple of days afterwards. Thanks for reading._


	5. Chapter 5

_'Before Christmas or a couple of days afterwards'...or not! Whats 6 weeks between friends, eh? Honestly, I'm really sorry I didn't get this out when I said I would- there are a number of reasons that include minor illness, major illness, moving job and moving city, among other things. The long and short of it is that I shouldn't make promises about update dates! Sorry. Ah well, I hope you enjoy it now it's here and if you have to re-read the rest to remind yourself, I hope you enjoy that again, too!_

_I want to thank my lovely beta, Ariadne0, who has done a fantastic job with this chapter and made the discussion of the edits so much fun. I'm so glad that you are feeling better, my dear! Also, massive thanks go to WotcherNymphadora who was willing to step in and lend a hand when I asked for help- what a star._

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><p>It was a beautiful late autumn afternoon. The garden was bathed in glorious and unseasonal sunshine, the birds were singing, the trees were beginning to turn and it was the perfect day for a walk through the grounds. The only thing spoiling the activity for both mother and son was the stubbornness of the other.<p>

"Cora didn't seem to think it such a strange idea," Violet huffed. Where Robert had picked up his stubbornness, unattractive character trait that it was, she could not begin to comprehend.

In response her son rolled his eyes and began to steer their steps more purposefully towards the house, attempting to draw the conversation to an end before the women in his life managed to turn him into an active player in their schemes. "And of course, you and Cora are known to see eye to eye on so few things that it obviously makes this idea a good one Anyway, I thought you didn't like him."

His mother was incredulous. Had she really raised this simple boy? Did he know nothing of good marriages? She despaired of his having three daughters to marry off, she really did. "So what? I have plenty of friends I don't like."

"Would you want Edith to marry one of them?"

She certainly didn't see why not, and so he received a scornful look in response. "Why do you always have to pretend to be nicer than the rest of us?"

"Perhaps I am."

They entered the library. Robert had thought his mother would leave him at that point, but it became apparent that he was to have no such luck. "Then pity your wife, whose fortune must go to this odd young man who talks about weekends and jobs. If Edith were to marry him, then all would be resolved."

"You think Edith can make a man forget the current necessity of an income and the passing of a span of two days, do you? I'm sure your granddaughter would be flattered, but I'm not convinced and I'm not sure why you have brought this to me. It really is too early for me to propose such a match- the boy has only just arrived. You'd do better to promote Edith and Matthew spending some time together in the first instance. Let us see how that goes."

It was clear that this was as much as she was going to get out of him, and she supposed it amounted to support for the plan, if not the enthusiasm she had hoped for. "Very well, I'll take her to call on Mrs Crawley this afternoon. Do you know what time Matthew gets home from this _job _of his?"

"I'm afraid I don't, Mother. It's Wednesday so I expect he'll have the afternoon off. You'll probably be lucky and catch him earlier than usual."

"Oh, solicitors get to skive with the butcher and grocer on Wednesday afternoons, do they? How interesting. And will he be trying out for the Ripon Wednesday football club, do you think?"

"I understand he's a bit of a dab hand at mid-wicket actually, Mama. The season won't start until next spring."

Violet looked suitably unimpressed with the information. "Well, perhaps Edith will be able to engage him for these idle afternoons. We may have it settled by spring, at which point she could channel his time far more productively."

His mother's far-reaching thoughts in this instance were bordering on the ludicrous and so Robert decided to throw a spanner in the works, if only to annoy her. "Have you thought that Sybil might be a better choice for Matthew? They do both have a similar quickness of mind. Of course that would mean waiting a year or so, until she is out."

He got the response he was looking for in the form of an exasperated retort. "Really, Robert, we have a plan and we're sticking to it. What Matthew may _choose_ is of little importance if Edith can pull it off. I'll be taking Cora into the village with us as well. Hopefully _she_ can think of something to say to these people." With that she swept out of the library and left Robert to its peace.

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><p>"I was hoping you'd be home in time." Isobel looked strangely harried to her son. Her voice was raised beyond what was necessary for the small hallway, and Matthew didn't at first take her meaning- she knew what time he usually got home from work and even when he was late, which he wasn't, it being Wednesday after all, it was not like her to worry.<p>

"In time for what?" he questioned as he removed his outerwear, passing over the eager hands of the ever present - and ever irritating - Molesley to hang it up himself.

"I've been paid the compliment of a visit." His mother's raised eyebrows and hesitant look communicated the significance of the visitors. Matthew understood her discomfort and was grateful for the forewarning. As such, he was able to enter the drawing room with a cheery and confident "Hello!" that he didn't really feel.

"Good afternoon, Cousin Matthew. We were just saying how charming this room is now."

Continuing with his forced jovial manner to cover his sudden nerves at the presence of Cousins Violet and Cora in what should be his after-work sanctuary, he gave an exaggerated nod at Cora's approval and looked around enthusiastically, as if he had never before seen the pretty periwinkle colour on the walls that he had helped his mother choose. As he made his mock-study of the room, Matthew noticed Cousin Edith standing awkwardly by the window and she gave him a brief, nervous smile. The conversation carried on behind him as he rebuffed Molesley yet again and retrieved his own cup of tea and cake - some discussion of Cousin Violet's mother-in-law? - before Matthew moved to stand with the least intimidating of their guests, leaving the matriarchs to fend for themselves.

"Cousin Edith, hello. I hadn't noticed you over here when I came in. I hope you are well?"

"Very well, thank you. She gave him a conspiratorial look while shooting a glance at their elders. "Given the circumstances, I thought it best to leave Granny and Mama to their visiting."

"Why?" he asked in concern. "I hope Mother hasn't been saying anything too alarming."

"Oh no, nothing of the sort. To be honest, I've just never been much good at small talk and I rarely accompany Mama and Granny on these visits. Mary's much better at that sort of thing. She has such a good grasp of the superficial."

Edith smiled brightly at him, but Matthew felt the bite in her words and wondered again at the relationship between the sisters and at the woman who inspired such thinly-disguised spite from the largely placid Edith.

He coughed discretely and looked away, and Edith was left with the impression that she had made Matthew slightly uncomfortable. Granny and Mama had told her to be charming and, realising that insulting her sister behind her back might not be quite the thing to promote a sense of gentility, she tried another topic of conversation.

"I remember that you said you were interested in learning about the local area and I was wondering if you'd had much time to look about the village yet? There's a lovely building that used to be the Temperance Hall down past the 'smith. It's used as a village hall now and they'll be decorating for harvest festival this weekend."

"Harvest festival is held at the hall and not in the church?"

"Well, of course the service is at the church, but there is a luncheon afterwards that the tenants and their families attend. Papa opens it and has a drink but doesn't stay to eat. The thing is, they put up the most marvellous decorations, and I was wondering if you wouldn't like to have a look?"

"Well, yes, I suppose, but won't I be expected to attend with your father for the opening of the luncheon? Surely I'll see it then?"

The girl looked positively crestfallen. "Oh… yes. I hadn't thought of that."

Matthew hated to be a disappointment to anyone, and as it was his choice to engage Edith in conversation in the first place, it was only polite for him to restore the tone. "To be honest, I'll be more excited to see the church festooned anyway, although I'm sure the hall will look lovely for the luncheon. It's just I have rather a thing for ecclesiastical architecture and it would be nice to see what they did with the old beauty next door."

Matthew's words did the trick, and Edith rallied to her third attempt at keeping him engaged. "Oh! Yes! St Christopher's is lovely and they always do it up nicely." She paused, hesitating before deciding to take another leap; Granny had insisted that she and Cousin Matthew must spend time together! "Did you know that there are a number of churches and chapels in the area? Really, some of them are charming and Papa has a wonderful book about them, written by an old vicar who retired to the village. Our governess used to take us out and have us do rubbings in the graveyards and pressings of the wild flowers. It's been ages since I've been to some of them."

Edith projected an air of excitement as she reminisced. What she failed to mention was that she had hated those visits. When that particular governess had left them to get married, she had burned every gravestone rubbing for fear of the image acting as a conduit, marking her out as having disturbed the resting place and encouraging a haunting from the deceased inhabitant. Mary had laughed at her and proceeded to pin hers to the wall of the schoolroom in a taunting display.

"I hadn't realised there were so many, at least not enough to warrant a book! I suppose it would be that way, with all of these small villages about, and in each village at least one church."

"Yes. Perhaps at some point you'd like to take a closer look at a few?" Edith beamed at him winningly.

Matthew was torn. He was slightly wary of Edith and what her less apparent schemes may be, but he really did enjoy looking at church architecture and had seen some charming examples on his week-day cycles into Ripon that he wouldn't mind examining more closely. To have a friendly local guide along with her father's useful book would be interesting. Anyway, it was a visit to churches- what harm could there be in such an innocent outing?

"Matthew?" He was called to attend the other side of the room by his mother and, after acknowledging her with a nod, he took his leave of Edith. "Yes, thank you. That would be nice. Perhaps we can make arrangements for later in the month. A weekend?"

He turned and walked away, but Edith was more than happy with their conversation and looked towards her mother with a wide smile, hoping that she had seen and shared in her success. Her mother was paying her no mind at all and was instead now standing with Matthew herself, conversing with him and his mother.

"Yes, she wrote to her father this morning and informed us that she would be home towards the end of next week. I imagine she'll come down at some point on Saturday, so perhaps you'll join us for dinner in the evening?"

"We're looking forward to making Lady Mary's acquaintance, aren't we, Matthew?"

"Yes, yes. Very much so."

The smile fell from Edith's face. "Mary's coming home? Why did no one tell me?"

"Edith, it was hardly a secret," her mother chided gently, before making to leave. Edith stepped up behind Matthew as they filed out of the drawing room behind her, hoping to bid him farewell after their pleasant conversation, but he had returned to his conversation with her mother, making small talk about the state of the train tracks from London and hoping that Mary would be able to make good time in her return home.

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><p>After refreshing herself from her journey and changing out of her travelling clothes, Mary did what she always did on returning from anywhere, particularly London, and took a walk through the cedar trees. She had a book with her, but did not head directly to her favourite bench, instead choosing to wander aimlessly. Despite it being late autumn, she basked in the warmth of the sun when the patterns cast by the trees allowed it to filter through. It was this pursuit that led her away from the vicinity of the house towards the edge of the large pond where the trees thinned, letting the sun shine down on her more fully, warming her upturned face pleasantly but making her black frock coat more stifling than normal.<p>

The sound of a large splash drew Mary from her idle enjoyment of being home, and on turning towards the sound, she froze in horror. A terrible form was rising from the water below where she stood on the bank. The dripping wet, dark brown mass was covered in green, slimy algae that had built up on the still water over the hot summer and unusually warm autumn months. Its wide mouth hung open, as if drawn back in a mindless grin but the eyes were locked on Mary with a manic gleam of purposeful intensity. A gurgle of fear left the back of Mary throat as she took a hasty step backwards, but already she was being pursued at some speed. With a leap, her assailant mounted the bank and closed on her triumphantly.

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><p>Matthew had escaped the house after work in search of some quiet away from his mother's ranting about Doctor Clarkson and the Dowager Countess. Ruefully his thoughts turned to the way she had run his father's practice; even with her new position in the hospital, she wouldn't be satisfied until they were all jumping to her orders.<p>

In truth he was also feeling rather wretched over his treatment of Molesley and the gentle set-down he had received from Cousin Robert. He had been, he supposed, a little priggish. Or a lot priggish, if he was honest with himself. It was a strange thing to allow himself to be dressed, like a doll, by another man, but at the same time it wasn't a huge inconvenience to him. Rather, it could be a help when he was bleary-eyed for work after a late dinner at the Abbey.

It kept a good man employed, the Earl had made his point there, but by backing down, had Matthew already allowed them to change him more than he had initially been prepared to accommodate? Was he already loosing himself to this place? Would that be such a bad thing, now he was here, and had met them all and, more than that, liked them all? Having found their ways and thoughts not as incompatible with his as he had feared, he wondered if he had been wrong in his initial reluctance to get to know his extended family, even if he still did not feel ready to consider the title.

In his musings, Matthew hadn't been concentrating on where he was going and found himself drawing close to the pond on the estate. He looked up at the sound of a large splash and smiled, moving more purposefully through the trees. He made a hailing sound, happily expecting to find a friendly face when he emerged to skirt the edge of the water.

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><p>A piercing whistle from over Mary's left shoulder startled her and thankfully diverted the imminent attentions of Pharaoh, her father's soggy golden Labrador. Instead of knocking her down in his usual greeting, he ploughed, at a speed that belied his age and increasingly arthritic limbs, into the legs of the stranger appearing around the trunk of one of the large trees. Stopping his loping bound long enough to shake, Pharaoh dislodged droplets of the water and weed matter that had darkened his once more shining coat all over the light tweed of the man who had rescued her from the same fate. The stranger bent to the dog, laughing lightly as he scratched him behind the ears fondly before brushing uselessly at the front of his clothes. Pharaoh gave a bark of pure glee and took off back towards Mary, stopping a few feet from her before again covering the distance to his new friend, as if to make sure he followed, and as if he intended to make the proper introductions.<p>

The stranger lifted his head and began moving towards her, and Mary saw that he was not as completely unknown to her as she had thought. She drew in a quick breath, feeling her face heat as she willed herself to be composed. It was the gentlemen that she had been so uncharacteristically captured by at the train station weeks ago. He was there, walking tall among the trees with a countenance so bright and golden it was as if he were part of the dappled sunlight itself.

Matthew was equally affected by the presence of the striking young lady from his first morning in Downton. She stood in contrast to the late afternoon sunshine; her severe black clothing did not fit the vibrant blues, greens and golds of their surroundings. On first encountering her, her pale skin looked sallow as one might expect in mid-winter, but on closer inspection he could now see that it was flawless and luminous, like the shine on a freshwater pearl. He had recalled her image a number of times since that morning at the station, wondering if he was ever to come across the beauty again in his time at Downton. Now that he thought about it, with the context of seeing her in the grounds of the house, he realised that the mystery woman had her mother's colouring with touches of her grandmother's striking features, particularly the intelligent glint in the depth of her eyes. And of course she was in mourning for her late husband.

He offered her a friendly smile, choking down the slight feeling of disappointment and dismissing entirely the more inappropriately visceral reaction that seeing her had aroused in him. If he allowed that to surface it would have left him breathless and speechless in her presence, among other things. "Lady Mary, I presume. I'm Matthew Crawley and it is a pleasure to meet you."

Her eyes widened in surprise and she inwardly chastised herself, firstly for allowing her discomposure to show on her face, but also because she had been completely blind-sided by him. The devil comes in all manner of guises- this one happened to have the face of an angel.

His arrival had been so sudden, and her thoughts so lost in being home, then escaping Pharaoh, and then their strange interaction that morning at the village station that she had given very little consideration to who he was and why he might be walking on her father's property and so friendly with his dog. So, this was the new heir. The weight of the matter settled over her thoughts once more and she felt her heart drop through her stomach like a stone.

She lifted her head imperiously and studied him again with this new information. What had been attractive was now more fuel for the fire. He certainly looked the part- her father's golden boy, his blue-eyed boy, all rolled in to one. How utterly perfect.

Matthew watched her eyes darken until they glittered coldly at him, assessing him and finding him wanting, no doubt. He was disappointed but given the circumstances was unsurprised by this reaction from her and the inevitable evaporation of the friendly mood. Even Pharaoh seemed affected as he gave a little whimper, pushing his head into the hand that dangled by Mary's right side. She offered him a quick pat on the head, never taking her eyes from Matthew. The dog seemed satisfied and trotted away, resuming his walk in and around the pond.

"Charmed, I'm sure." There was ice in her voice as he stepped up to take her hand but she did allow him to take it, dropping the contact quickly and decisively after a moment. With a last, cool glance she turned away from him and started back towards the house.

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><p><em>They've met! And exchanged words! My beta tells me I'm a tease for leaving it this long so I hope I've done it justice. Drop me a line and let me know!<em>


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you for all your reviews on the last chapter- believe it or not, they do make me write faster. Getting things posted faster is apparently another matter! That said, this chapter as posted here is un-beta'ed, please forgive me any mistakes. _

_That is not to say my lovely beta, AriadneO, didn't look at the chapter because she did and she's amazing. BUT my email is apparently bouncing and I didn't get her edits. Subsequently we've fallen out of contact, and I'm adrift without her, but I wanted to get this chapter out because I realise that this story is a very slow mover for all of you that are kind enough to be reading it._

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><p>"Stupid, stupid girl!" Mary railed at herself in an agonised whisper as she stormed through the grounds towards the formal gardens and up into the house. For all she knew, she may have received the interloper with a welcoming smile, when the last thing he was in the world to her was a welcome addition to her life.<p>

Worse still, the shock and dismay that she knew had been written all over her face when he made himself known to her meant that, however briefly, he had seen her without the mask of serenity she had designed to protect herself from him and her own disappointment. Mary had let his pretty face distract her, and that was inexcusable.

So what if he was attractive? He was still there to take everything from her. It was obvious he already had his feet well and truly under the table- even Pharaoh was happy to see him. He had felt sure enough of himself to introduce himself to her- _in her own father's grounds_! Mary's temper, which she had believed was under control enough to meet him following her time away in London, flared hot once more at his presumption.

The resonance of the dressing gong gave her an excuse not to seek out the members of her family. Carson would have informed them that she had arrived, and they knew her habits well enough to know she would have gone walking, so she was free to go up to dress in peace. Anna, saint that she was, would have drawn her bath, and she hoped it would settle her nerves before she had to play the happy traveller, joyfully returned to the bosom of her family. If it did not settle her enough, she decided blithely, it would be an opportune place to slip under the water, taking her away from this whole nasty business without having to go to the inconvenience of asking Anna to arrange a noose!

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><p>Matthew stood open mouthed and breathless, watching the black enveloped figure storm back to the house. He was struck-dumb; by her beauty, by her identity and that they should first meet here, alone, and in such a way. What he was not at all surprised by was their interaction. In truth, the animosity he had received from her was refreshingly honest.<p>

That he hadn't seen more of it from the family on his arrival had thrown him - oh, there had been some back-biting and sniping from Cousin Violet, but she had mellowed remarkably quickly and at times looked on him almost indulgently. On the whole the family had been so polite; almost falling over themselves to make him welcome, make his mother welcome, make sure he felt that his input was important, not only in an attempt to secure his own future, but also to act as a sounding board, a partner in all things, while Robert was still the occupier. Yet he knew some of it had to be false. There had to be hurt feelings- he was the interloper! A little acknowledgement that he was not what they had planned for, and that he was, in every way, the embodiment of all of their disappointments for the future of Downton, would be welcome.

He knew no-one would feel his intrusion into their lives more than Lady Mary and her response was much more akin to what he had expected, and in a way secretly hope for, when he first arrived. He wanted some vindication that he had been right to do everything in his power to research ways to give up the title and the estate. That it couldn't be done made her situation all the more wretched, and her anger at him all the more futile, if no less understandable.

But did her anger at the situation and his new position, so daunting to him and enviable in her eyes, mean that there was no hope for them ever getting along, Matthew wondered. His conversation with her father earlier that day came back to him now;

"_About your scheme for furthering the work on the estate cottages…"_

"_You don't mind my interfering?" _

"_My dear fellow I brought you here to interfere, but I'm afraid Mary might not like it too much. It was, after all, her baby."_

"_Perhaps the two of us could work together on it."_

Lord Grantham had given him an indulgent, if doubtful, look that spoke clearly of his thoughts on the matter. Mary had pushed for the work on the cottages to begin with- she obviously had had plans to see it through and from what he had seen, her ideas for improvement to the tenants' lives were very much in line with his own. They could be friends- he knew they could. It was evident in both of their short, anonymous, and thus unguarded, exchanges when interest and curiosity had coloured their interaction, and it was in everything he had heard of her so far. He would work to show her he was her equal- if not in breeding then in current standing, and certainly in knowledge and understanding.

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><p>Mary assessed herself in the full length mirror, running her hand over the front of her dress in contemplation. Her heavy sigh caused Sybil, who was seated on her bed, and Anna, tidying away bits and pieces from dressing and the London trip, to exchange worried looks.<p>

"I know you said this one, Lady Mary, but I had Gwen help me prepare the new gowns from London while you were walking if you'd prefer one of those for tonight?"

Mary sighed again, but gave Anna's reflection a rueful smile. "Thank you, Anna, but no. It's fine. Everything's black anyway, what difference will it make?"

"Oh Mary, do wear the Battenberg lace- I can't wait to see it on you."

"Darling, it's a bit much for dinner with just us."

"But it's not just us; Granny will be here to see you, of course, and the Crawleys' are coming up for introductions."

"What?" Mary whirled on her sister, her horror at the idea written across her face.

"Well…" Sybil was slightly taken aback by Mary's vehemence - it wasn't that she didn't know or understand how Mary felt towards the new heir but rather that in getting to know Matthew, and with Mary being away, it had lost its relevance somehow. He was here now and he was nice. Sybil still felt sorry for Mary's situation, of course - she shouldn't have to suffer even more now that Patrick was gone than she did during her marriage, and to lose her position twice over was hard, but… now there was Cousin Matthew to think of as well.

Mary nodded quickly at Anna and disappeared behind the dressing screen to change into the new dress, releasing Sybil from the indignant stare she had been held in. _Honestly, _Sybil thought, _there was no need to shoot the messenger._ "Mary I understand why you so against him… or at least what he stands for, but really, Cousin Matthew is nice."

"Aside from the fact he's going to steal our inheritance." The set down given by the disembodied voice was no less irate for the lack of eye contact.

The bedroom door, which had stood ajar, was pushed open further to admit Edith. The motion interrupted Sybil and spared her from having to come up with something in order to try and temper her sister's anger. Of course her loyalties lay with Mary, but Matthew really had done _nothing_ wrong. In fact, he'd been coping exceptionally well with all the prejudices he faced from others, particularly the house staff. He had been endlessly solicitous in his behaviour towards the family- so much so, it was almost like he'd always been with them. For Sybil it felt like having a brother at long last.

As Mary appeared from behind the screen, Sybil was glad that Edith took up the conversation in her stead. If it was in a more mean-spirited manner than she would have used, the younger girl was still glad to be out of it.

"_Your_ inheritance. It makes no difference to Sybil and me, we won't inherit whatever happens." She paused, and, thinking about all the plans for her and Matthew, smirked. "Well, I suppose there _are_ ways…"

Mary, occupied with keeping her head as still as possible while Anna finished resetting her hair, missed the end of Edith's comment but she wasn't about to have her repeat it- Edith never said anything much worth listening to anyway. Instead, she continued with her objections to the man who was coming to dinner and whose person was weighing so heavily on her mind. "Well he's clearly feeling very at home here- so very full of himself! Already he's marching through the grounds as if they are his domain. Perhaps we shouldn't let Papa alone with him after dinner, who knows what will be slipped into the decanters to hasten along the handover."

Sybil gave an amused roll of her eyes at her sister's melodrama, "Mary, you haven't even met him."

"Of course I have. He was wandering the grounds this afternoon- surveying his new kingdom and making it a point to introduce himself to all of his subjects."

"Ah, and there we have it." Edith smirked again, walking around her sister's room, prodding several possessions that Mary had chosen to bring home with her from London. "Not only is he stealing your inheritance, but he's also not playing by your rules. As your social inferior, he shouldn't have approached you." Mary's gaze, where she had been following the reflection of Edith pawing her things, now flittered away to the top of her vanity. She chose to ignore, rather than try and deny, her sister's mocking words although they inspired a hint of discomfort when recollecting her behaviour.

Edith continued with her diatribe. "Still, it would have been a little odd, don't you think- if he'd been out there, seen you and said nothing- waiting for a proper introduction another time? Had that been the case, you would have felt snubbed, and equally resentful. He probably came over thinking to start a pleasant conversation, not receive a lesson in court manners. Poor man, I'm sure you were perfectly beastly to him."

"I greeted him." Mary's tone was sharp and defensive which was enough for Edith to guess exactly the kind of greeting Matthew would have relieved. After all, Edith had inspired that tone in her sister often enough.

"And then stuck your nose in the air and marched back to the house, I'm sure."

Mary studiously kept her gaze away from the mirror, continuing with her preparations by applying her perfume.

"Oh Mary, you didn't?" Sybil sighed, mostly exasperated, but her mild rebuke was tinged with fondness. Mary was certainly back and in fine form!

"What didn't Mary do?" Cora walked into the room and stood behind her daughter at the vanity, placing her hand on her shoulder in a silent welcome home.

"Mary didn't care for Cousin Matthew when she met him earlier today."

Mary shot Edith a look in the reflection but her sister's attention was on her mother. She had a twinkle in her eye that Mary had never seen before, but it was accompanied by her patented All-Knowing-Edith smirk that Mary found insufferable. She was up to something, and whatever it was, she thought she had one over on Mary.

Cora eyed each of her daughters carefully, trying to read the room, before dismissing the younger girls on the pretence of running errands for her. Turning back to Mary, she surveyed the new dress and the picture her daughter made in the mirror again. All-in-all the image was stunning, but she wasn't about to begin this conversation by inflating Mary's ego. Instead she nodded to the small vase of wild flowers on the vanity.

"Pretty. I'm glad to get you alone."

"You've driven the other away."

She chuckled lightly. "Perhaps I have, but it's nice to have you home and I thought we could talk."

"Oh. About what?" Mary's tone suggested she knew she was about to be told off- it happened often enough that she could recognise it a mile away, even if the occasions had been less frequent since her marriage.

"The point is, my dear, I don't want any of you girls, especially you, to feel you have to dislike Matthew."

"Mama, really? How am I supposed to feel about the man? There was a time you disliked the idea of him..."

"Well that was before he came. Now he's here, I don't see any future in it the way things are."

"I don't see why women should be forced to give up everything because of the men in their lives, or the lack thereof as the case may be for me. It's too ludicrous for words that you should have to give up all your money to a distant cousin of your husbands, and that I should give up the home that should be mine by birth _and_ marriage. It's the 20th century!"

"It's not as simple as that. The money isn't mine any more. It forms a part of the estate, and that estate is entailed away from you, my darling."

"Even so, if Papa would just allow a judge to hear…"

"For once in your life would you just listen? I believe there's an answer which would secure our family's continued place in this house and in the county. It would give your sister a position and could secure your future if you wanted to remain here."

"You can't be serious. You're planning to marry them off, just like you did me."

"Just think about it. Why shouldn't your sister marry him?"

"I don't have to think about it, he isn't one of us! He's allowed to swan in here, take the roof from our heads and the shirts off our backs _and_ claim one of the Vestal Virgins as well? But then no, I suppose the point is not so much claim, as another of the virgins offered up in sacrifice for the sake of keeping this house. How many will it take, do you think?"

Her mother's sigh was a long one. "Mary, please."

"Have you mentioned this to Granny? Was she horrified?"

"Why would she be? It was her idea."

The furious, gaping gaze she received in return was not attractive and so Cora got up to leave the room. It was better to leave Mary to stew and they had precious little time before the arrival of the guests and dinner to allow her mood to improve. She realised she had poked the bear when she had intended to help the situation. Really, if only Mary would see that keeping Downton in the family was the best possible thing. For one, if they could pull it off and Mary chose not to remarry, she would be able to go on living in the house she had always loved.

"Which sister?" Mary asked quietly, gazing deeply into the mirror but seeing nothing of her reflection in it. After everything she'd done to keep Sybil from exactly this type of arrangement, everything she'd tried to do for Edith…

Her mother looked back expectantly- she hadn't heard her. "Which sister?" Mary asked again, her voice a little louder but with no more strength.

"Edith. She seems to have taken quite a shine to our young Mr Crawley. I think they could do well together."

"Edith…" her heart sank. Edith who had never listened to her warnings about arranged marriages, who had never believed that Patrick could be anything other than perfect. Edith, who wanted their parents approval so much that even if she had been unhappy with the arrangements, never would have spoken up for risk of falling out of favour, or worse, into obscurity again. She gave her mother a brittle smile. "Well at least she likes him."

Cora nodded and left the room, but Mary continued softly as she turned back to the mirror; "Some people find that quite important in a marriage, I understand."

* * *

><p>Despite having come to a resolution on how he was going to act, Matthew was nearly as daunted entering the house that evening as he had been the first time he and his mother had come up for dinner. He cringed inwardly as he remembered his bumbling introduction to the house and family: <em>'What a reception committee!<em>' What an idiot!

Well, at least Lady Mary hadn't been here for _that_ exhibition. In fact any of the things that had happened that evening; Thomas' subtle baiting at the table, the discussion of his job, his literary interests… he could imagine her relishing every example of his middle class upbringing. There would have been a spiteful sneer on her cold face as she enjoyed his discomfort, or perhaps she would have joined in the show of derision with mocking laughter in her eyes, and yet…he couldn't blame her.

To have lost her husband was bad enough, but to lose her future security and childhood home into the bargain as well? The amount of pain she faced was unthinkable and it stayed his own anger and resentment at her treatment of him this afternoon. Oh, it had annoyed him to be so coldly dismissed, but he was going to try and keep those feelings on a low simmer and not allow them to boil over. While he understood her attitude and fully expected to see evidence of her distain in the coming weeks and months, beginning with this very dinner, he also wasn't prepared to lie down and take her bitterness and insults.

He recalled again their interaction at the station; the serene morning broken by the motion of a child with flame-hair and then his own bouncing heart when he had seen the beautiful woman across the tracks. There had been indignation when she initially caught him looking at her, but that had settled into good humour before she boarded the train. The reverse had happened this afternoon when her good mood and obvious enjoyment of her surroundings had, very quickly, turned to anger and resentment.

Not quite quickly enough, however. As she'd looked up there had been a smile on her face- a surprised, but no less friendly expression that told him she recalled their moment at the train station as well. It was only in realising who he was and what he stood for that the true anger and resentment materialised. That was entirely understandable and it could… it would be overcome with time.

She had loved this estate her whole life, and he was beginning to feel the same, yet today in the bright autumn sunshine of a beautiful afternoon she had looked cold and hard and out of place and that was partly his fault. If he could see the estate through her eyes, and get her to see it through his, they could learn so much from each other and hopefully she would begin to feel at home there once again.

Firstly though, they had to get through this dinner.

* * *

><p>As her father performed Mary's formal introductions to Matthew and Isobel, neither spoke up about their previous interactions. Mary had decided to be as cordial as she would have been in the drawing rooms of London; every measure of civility was to be shown, and her frustrations were to be kept on an even simmer, giving away nothing that could be used against her. She was aware that her mask of indifference was not impenetrable, that had been clear enough earlier this afternoon, but thankfully there was little time for it to dissolve this evening as Carson intoned dinner to her mother almost immediately after Mary had finished listening politely to Cousin Isobel's thoughts on the village and hospital.<p>

With Mary as the novel newcomer, she was seated between their guests in order to further the acquaintance. Thus dinner began quietly as she directed all of her polite conversational skills at Isobel. With her resolution to be polite, and no more than polite to Matthew, that certainly didn't extend to making idle conversation with him. She would speak to him when spoken to, as she had been taught as a child. Plus, she was banking on the cold manner of her earlier greeting in the grounds keeping him from getting up the courage to try again, anyway. While she was curious about him, longing to know what kind of man her father had inflicted on them, she would take his measure through his conversations with others, and in particular, Mary wanted to observe his interactions with Edith. There was no way she was just going to hand over one of her sisters to an undeserving man. Even if it was Edith. The very thought sent chills up her spine.

* * *

><p>During dinner her father, raising his voice in order to speak to her mother across the table, broke into individual conversations. "Carter reminded me that the early December York and Ainsty is to be held at Downton. Six weeks away is not soon enough if you ask me, we're practically tripping over the vermin every time we exit the front door."<p>

Her mother nodded and finished the sip of wine she had been taking before answering. "Yes, I've had a few inquiries for the weekend but I wasn't sure what to do. Mary, darling, are you opposed to having guests in the house? Of course you're still in mourning but the house isn't and I wasn't sure what to do.

"Mama, it's your house, you may do as you please. I'll be sorry to miss going out with the hunt, particularly a Downton date, but as I'll be missing the next two seasons entirely, I suppose it doesn't much signify."

"So you're a hunting family?" Matthew appeared to address the room, but as his eyes drifted to Mary, a sensation she was becoming familiar with. As he was addressing her, her self-appointed rules for their interactions demanded that she answer him. To have begun with such a ridiculous question, really, there was no way to keep the scorn fully from her voice despite her mother's upbraiding glare. "Families like ours are always hunting families."

"Not always. Billy Skelton won't have them on his land."

Mary was trying to hold her tongue, but really, if all the men in the room were going to be silly they deserved her derision. "But all the Skelton's are mad."

Her father turned to Matthew in an effort to change the subject. "If you ever want a ride, just let Lynch know."

"Well, I ride, but a hunt…" his voice trailed off with uncertainty. He knew he had made his lack of experience was clear anyway, but it was a different matter to outright admit such a weakness in front of a hostile observer.

Mary could hold her tongue no longer. If it was beyond his abilities to fit in with their ways, then he shouldn't be there in the first place. "I suppose you're more interested in sitting with large books than country sports."

It was a reference to their first almost-meeting, and Matthew didn't miss it. The fact that she was even unconsciously hinting to having noticed Matthew that morning gave him pause for a second. That, and the fact that he had seen her carrying a volume to the pond that afternoon, and her sister's discussion of her literary pursuits meant that her jibe hit far less painfully than he was sure she had intended. In fact, it again brought home to him his sympathy for her cause- she was wounded and lashing out. He would stand his ground but not engage.

"I probably am. You'll tell me that's rather unhealthy."

"Not unhealthy, just unusual in our kind of people."

He smirked gently. "And yet your sisters tell me you are quite the scholar yourself. Wasn't it a copy of Ovid's Metamorphoses you were carrying this afternoon? If I am unusual in this strange new life of mine, at least I'm in good company."

* * *

><p>Ever the hostess, Cora looked around at the effect their debate was having on the rest of the table to see if she should draw it to a close. Isobel, Sybil and Violet were transfixed, while Robert looked uneasy. Edith was studiously looking at her plate, and she realised she'd heard nothing from her middle daughter since they'd sat at the table. Curtsey dictated that she sit Mary between Matthew and his mother, but still, Edith would have to learn to forward herself a bit more - they couldn't hand Matthew to her on a plate! Nevertheless, it was time to break into the discussion and try and bring things round a bit.<p>

"So you don't mind if I start making the arrangements? I was going to ask Evelyn Napier to say here. Had you heard his mother died? A couple of months before Patrick, actually. She was such a good friend and was so kind to you when you were first married that I thought it would be nice."

Mary nodded as she placed her hands in her lap in order to address her mother. "I had heard, yes. She was very kind to steer me so deftly through the gossips of London. After all, she'd faced them all before me." She paused, "We're you ever friends with Viscount Branksome, Mama?"

"No, not really, we never had much to do with each other. I only ever really saw Lady Branksome at committee meetings. We bonded because everyone else was over 60. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering. He has so many female friends, I wondered if he'd ever been particularly friendly towards you." Her mother shook her head and continued her meal, as oblivious as ever. Granny, on the other hand, was watching her knowingly.

"So you don't mind if Evelyn stays here? He said something about bringing a friend; a diplomat he's entertaining for some reason or other."

"No, why should I?"

"What do you think, Mama? Will it look odd with Mary still in mourning?"

Violet's piercing gaze turned thoughtful while she contemplated the situation, still focused fully on her eldest granddaughter. "I don't think so. Young Evelyn's an old friend of the family, coming for the hunt more than anything. If anybody does feel the need to say anything about Mary's status and entertaining young men, well, she can always spend the weekend with me."

"Yes, that's a plan then." Cora smiled around the room, her eyes alighting on a morose Edith again. Mildly annoyed that she'd have to do all the matchmaking herself at this rate she turned with a charming smile and made enquiries on her daughters' behalf: "So Matthew, what will you do that weekend if all of the men of the estate are off terrorising foxes?"

"Well I hadn't really…"

Robert jumped in, desperately to keep his new heir out of harm's way if he planned to do anything fool-hardy. "Yes, perhaps it would be best not to ride out with them this time, dear boy. There'll be plenty of opportunities for that when you're more used to the saddle."

"Yes, of course." Matthew flushed and looked down. He hadn't been about to suggest joining the hunt anyway, but he didn't need Robert highlighting his ineptitude.

Cora tried again. "Maybe you and Edith could make those visits you've been meaning to go on."

"Visits?" Mary and Matthew questioned at the same time, exchanging an uncomfortable glance at having simultaneously blurted out the same question.

"To the churches? I know Edith's been looking through that old manuscript of Rev. Greene's. Didn't you say something about St Barnabas the other day, dear?"

Edith smiled tremulously at her mother, and then Matthew as Mary rolled her eyes. Could this proposed outing be anymore contrived? "Oh well, doesn't _that_ sound like fun. A whole day of churches with Rev. Greene. Edith, you will remember to show Cousin Matthew the mausoleum at Christ Church you got stuck in when you were 8, won't you? If you felt like re-enacting the scene as an adult, you might find your screaming actually wakes the dead this time."

There was true animosity in Edith's gaze as she locked eyes with her sister across the table, a fact that was noted my more than just its intended recipient. Cora gently berated Mary but immediately lost interest in her endlessly bickering daughters and returned to discussing the hunt with her husband. It was the reaction of Matthew that Mary found most interesting. He, like Sybil, had brought his serviette quickly to his mouth in order to cover a smirk or a chuckle, she couldn't be sure which. Either way, he was finding amusement at Edith's expense, and did not come to her defence in any way. Not the type of reaction she would expect from a potential love interest. On the contrary, he was inclining towards _her_ with a twinkle in his eye.

"I see the hostility I had detected towards you from Edith goes both ways. I wonder where it comes from when you are clearly such an _open_ and _understanding_ person."

Despite the hint of mocking in Matthew's tone, his chide was surprisingly gentle after the way she had been treating him. Nevertheless, she felt entitled to her hurt and resentment towards him, not to mention the fact that she was not about to let history repeat itself in the marriage of her younger sister, especially if he was prepared to laugh when Edith was ridiculed.

"The relationship between my sister and I is complicated, as I think you'll find between most siblings of a similar age, but believe me when I say I will look out for her no matter what. And I'll protect her, from anyone, even if she doesn't see that she needs it."

There was a fierceness of meaning behind Mary's words that went far beyond a normal statement of sisterly protectiveness, but Matthew didn't understand why Edith would need such fervent protection, or why the defensiveness was seemingly being directed at him. For some reason Mary was acting like a lioness protecting her cub, and while he didn't comprehend what danger she perceived, Matthew could appreciate and admire the depth of feeling in the challenge that belied the less than harmonious relationship between the sisters.

They held each other's eyes for a long moment as Matthew tried to analyse what he saw in her dark gaze, becoming distracted when all he could think about was Fry's Cream, his favourite brand of chocolate. A voice from his left startled him out of his sweet-toothed contemplation.

"Let's go through, ladies, shall we?"

He nodded at Mary as if in understanding of her point, although he had forgotten what it was she had said entirely - something completely baffling…? Mary looked away as well, but she was left distinctly unsettled by the moment they had shared.

* * *

><p>On re-joining the ladies after dinner Robert had left Matthew's side to converse with his wife, once more making plans for the up-coming hunt. His mother was speaking quietly to Sybil with Cousin Violet looking on in disapproval, but before he could find out what they were talking about Matthew had been cornered by Edith. It hadn't escaped his notice that Mary had already made her escape by retiring for the evening.<p>

Now, in the cool of the evening after the unseasonal heat of the day and the simmering tension of his conversation dinner, he walked Cousin Violet to the motor, his mother just behind, collecting her coat. He was so lost in remembrance of the evening, attempting to dissect his interaction with Cousin Mary that he was startled when her grandmother spoke.

"I'm sorry Mary was rather sharp this evening."

He sighed heavily, audibly, and then stopped, causing Violet to stop with him and meet his frank gaze. "I am determined that Cousin Mary and I are going to be close friends, whether she likes it or not."

"Hmm" Cousin Violet was giving him the oddest look. It was in turn appraising, quelling, surprised and somewhat hopeful, he thought. Not really understanding it, he hurried on to explain himself in light of the discord that he was sure she had seen, that they had all witnessed, between him and her granddaughter.

"I don't blame her, you know. Her father's home and her mother's fortune are to be passed to me. It's very hard."

"What would you have said if the entail could have been set aside in Mary's favour?"

"I would have accepted it with good grace, I didn't want it in the first place, but you must know there is no way for that to happen. I've looked at it from every angle."

"I know, my dear boy, and I am very grateful. I'm not sure it will be enough to win you favour with my granddaughter."

"I'm sure it won't." He smirked at her, "and Lady Mary will continue to be selfless, cold and composed when I am present, but I assure you Cousin Violet, I will use every charm in my power to bring her around and make her comfortable once again."

"I'm sure you will. I'm sure you will." She was looking at him with that odd look again as he helped her into the car. Once she was settled she turned to the driver, effectively dismissing him. "Ah, good evening Taylor."

* * *

><p><em>I'm having trouble with Matthew- he just doesn't speak to me as easily as Mary does, so I have trouble finding his voice. Any feedback, especially on Matthew, would be gratefully received. Anyone have any idea as to where I can find my inner Mr Crawley?<em>

_Cora says that Evelyn is bringing a diplomatic friend of his to stay, so the rating may go up in the next chapter- not by much, it won't be explicit._


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews, alerts and favourites for this story- it's nice to hear from you all, especially those who are willing to discuss their feedback with me. I really am interested in what you have to say regarding what has, or may happen, in the story, so, as I reply to all feedback, feel free to enter into discussion or ignore me as is your want. In light of that, I'd like to thank _**EOlivet**_ and _**Irite**_ for talking me through some points on the upcoming chapter. The opening section is dedicated to _**circa1910 **_who asked for 'a few more verbal jousts.' I tried to get them in but I'm not sure how successfully.

I'm sorry if I worried some of you prematurely in my last AN- he's actually up next ; ).

I'm afraid I was too impatient to wait for my lovely beta on this chapter so again, this is unbeta'd. Please forgive me all mistakes.

In this chapter a number of characters discuss fox hunting and regional accents. Please do not take umbrage with me over their stances- none of the fictional characters in this story speak for me.

* * *

><p>Isobel breezed into the sitting room, a burst of energy in an otherwise sedate and peaceful morning for Matthew who was trying to enjoy a little peace before he made his way to work. "I've had a note from Cousin Cora. She asks if we can both dine on Saturday. That's the day of the hunt, of course, and they'll have houseguests, so you may not be so outnumbered for once."<p>

Matthew barely looked up from his book but nodded in acceptance all the same. It was hardly necessary- while dinners at the Abbey were posed through invitations, there rarely seemed to be much leeway for refusal.

Cordial dinners, affable weekend luncheons and genial outings around the estate to look at this mended fence or that area of coppicing had become the norm as Matthew fell into the rhythm of his new life as the shockingly-employed-heir-presumptive of a large and noble estate. Or at least, that's how it appeared on the face of it.

From the majority of the Grantham family there was an overall air of tolerance towards Matthew. In the eyes and tone of voice of Lady Mary, however, condemnation was clearly present whenever she deigned to speak to him. Her sharp tongue and sharper wit, clearly inherited at her grandmother's knee, were always swiftly employed to take him on across a variety of subjects. It was all cleverly covered by the polite dinner conversations of others, or should anyone care to listen in, by responses that were all that was demanded by civility, if clipped to a point that would strain the courtesy, and an insincere smile that did not reach her eyes.

Several of their exchanges lived large in his memory for their thinly veiled cutting nature, but also because he actually enjoyed their banter;

* * *

><p>On one occasion, after a reasonably pleasant discussion of the opening of Matthew's first pheasant season, and the resulting game dish in front of them, Cousin Violet had, with characteristic coarseness, remarked; "I must say I am pleased that someone had the foresight to teach you to speak properly, Cousin Matthew. Had you retained a Manchester accent, dinner conversations would have been a good deal more trying!"<p>

"Really, Mama, it's not as if a regional accent is insurmountable given Matthew's history and only recently elevated position." Lord Grantham was kind, if unconsciously supercilious in his defence, but Matthew knew he had seen relief in _his_ expression the first time they had spoken in London, too.

With complete sincerity, the Dowager leaned further over her plate to peer at Robert and explained, as if he were slow; "Yes, but I am glad that we will be able to take him to London without an interpreter."

Matthew had been more amused than upset by this discourse, but of course his mother was genuinely affronted, both on his behalf, and at the idea that there could have been something lacking in his upbringing. "There are schools in Manchester, you know. Good ones. Matthew was not left to an indifferent education. His father and I made sure…"

At that point, Matthew had been drawn away from the main action by Sybil's giggle at his left side. Turning towards her to ask her opinion of regional accents, least likely to be biased by uncharitable stereotypes, he found himself trapped by Mary's dark eyes as she too leant in to speak to her sister.

"…and it's not as if he comes to dinner every night, so there would be plenty of time for standing in front of a mirror at Crawley House, reciting 'niminy piminy' (1) to his heart's content." Both girls smiled, Sybil in amusement of her sister's teasing, Mary with spite as she continued to hold his gaze.

It had taken him a moment to place the familiar passage but eventually he had it. With an easy smile in return, he raised his glass to her before taking a sip. "I'm so glad you feel that I have achieved the 'right plié,' Lady Emily. Or should that be Miss Clifford?"

Mary had tried to cover her shock, whether it was at his quick understanding of her tease or his casting he wasn't sure, but either was she had been thoroughly unsuccessful. "As my mother said, there _are_ schools in Manchester. Libraries too, with books in them _and_ theatres that put on plays." Satisfied, he had returned to his meal.

* * *

><p>Another time, they had been speaking of the approaching hunt again after dinner. Matthew's interest in the subject had grown since it was first mentioned and he hoped very much, after some practice, to be able to ride out with the next Downton date. It was, after all, to be part of his life now, as shown by the number of times the subject had come up since it had first been mentioned.<p>

He and Robert had been standing by the window in the drawing room. It was dark outside, but two shadowy shapes, young foxes, were wrestling playfully on the front lawn, their high-pitched barking and yipping upsetting Pharaoh terribly.

Robert tutted. "Well at least the weather is looking good for it- what with the rain we've had and no frost yet, the ground will have a bit of give."

Sybil joined them, watching the rough-and-tumble over her father's shoulder. "Oh Papa, they do look so sweet sometimes. I wish there was a kinder way to cull them than having them ripped to pieces by dogs."

Matthew and Robert had both tuned to her, Robert with a frown- it was clear that they'd had this conversation before. "Sybil you know how many people are supported by the hunts on this estate alone. We couldn't find work for them all if there was no sport."

"I know, but sometimes I have trouble looking at it as _sport_."

Seeing Mary walk up behind her sister, Matthew decided this was as good a time as ever to prove to her that he was willing to adopt their ways. "It's up to us to protect the countryside, Sybil; 'all the animals, birds and fish will live in fear of you. They are now placed under your power.'"

Mary took up the quotation, beginning where he ended. "'And you shall eat them (2).' " She pursed her lips, and, with raised eyebrows, appraised Matthew and her father standing with her sister. "Really, it's not as if we _do_ eat the foxes- I suppose it is a bit senseless."

Matthew was confused by this seeming about-face. "Foxes rarely eat all the chickens they maul - they kill instinctively and can decimate livestock, not always in pursuit of food. Not all anglers eat their catch, either. Do you find them just as cruel? Anyway, I thought that you were upset not to be going out with the hunt? Do you no longer agree with controlling the pests?"

"Actually I do, but that doesn't mean I can't also see the view point of others. Really Cousin, you must learn to pay no attention to the things I say. Not everything is so black and white." She paused, sizing him up, and he saw a twinkle in her eye that he knew meant he was about to be teased again. "I also wanted to hear your views. I wanted to make sure your kippers remained on your breakfast plate the next time I'm out with the dogs."

Matthew was left completely baffled in her wake as she moved away but Sybil, seeing his confusion, stepped up next to him. "She's saying she doesn't want you laying a _red herring_ (3)," she explained with a smile. She was quiet, so as not to illustrate his lack of understanding to the rest of the room, and Matthew had been grateful for her consideration.

* * *

><p>Just this past week, Matthew had also overheard a semi-private conversation between Mary and Robert about her upcoming trip to London, and some contracts she had wanted her Papa to look over. Matthew missed his reply but Mary had not looked happy, fairly dismissing her father as she walked away, muttering contemptuously that; "lawyers and solicitors are all out for what they can get and to make life as difficult as possible for those that rely on their help."<p>

The comment was not, surprisingly, flung at Matthew, and he had not thought she knew he was listening, but on overhearing it, he felt the sting all the same.

* * *

><p>Brought back into the present by the chime of the small clock on the mantel that told him it was time to head to work, Matthew decided that he and Mary were locked in a tense, if polite, stalemate that seemed to suit Mary while frustrating him no end. He wanted her to demonstrate her intelligence and views so that he could disagree with her, challenge her, or prove to her that in some fundamental ways, they were on the same page. While there was amusement in their discourse, the examples of petty derision gave him no leeway to truly engage her as she dropped a well-aimed barb and flounced off.<p>

There were only so many times he could try and single her out in mixed company and, with her withdrawal from any real interaction with him, he could not draw out the issues that lay between them. The picture she retained of him, tainted by her disappointments, would not allow her to know him at all.

* * *

><p>While Matthew's thoughts moved between the past and his present situation, others were creatively plotting for his future, both the immediate and longer-term. It was a formidable threesome that walked through the hallways of Downton; the Earl, his Countess and the Dowager Countess. To the frustration of the ladies, who were on roughly the same page regarding the prospects of the next Earl and the promotion of the second daughter of the house, they were battling descent in the ranks. Lord Grantham could see the benefit in the scheme, but he still failed to see the match as the foregone conclusion his mother and wife seemed to want it to be.<p>

He rolled his eyes as Cora enthused _again_ about the proposed outing where Edith would take Matthew traipsing through the countryside to gaze at musty old buildings that only saw use once a week. "You're not really still pushing for them to go off on this field-trip, surely."

Cora shook her head at her husband's inability to see this as a positive step. Edith was finally making an effort to forward herself! "It's not of my doing. It's all Edith's own work, but I think we should encourage it."

"But it all sounds so dull! Still, I don't suppose that matters, it's not as if I have to go. I just can't really believe it's something an active young man like Matthew is interested in. And Edith! You know what she's like when she's bored, we'll hear the whingeing from here."

"Robert, you were the one who said they should spend time together- Edith has done well. She spent time talking with him, and apparently this is what he wanted to do, so now they will spend time together doing it." To punctuate her statement, Cora primly took her seat.

Violet joined her, both in sitting, and in defence of her position. "Cora is right. Edith has far surpassed my expectations for making headway with Matthew Crawley, so we may be on the way to getting her settled. I was worried the rose would never find her bloom."

Emboldened by the rare show of support from her mother-in-law, Cora leaned forward and patted her knee with a beaming smile. "Flowers don't worry about how they're going to bloom- they just open up, and turn towards the light, and that makes them beautiful (4)."

Violet looked frankly aghast at the sentiment and rolled her eyes away, huffing about the mawkishness of Americans.

Robert remained sceptical. "And you've seen this… radiance in Edith, have you? Around Matthew?"

"Well, not as yet, but its early days and with a little time and the right prodding…"

His mother's protestations were louder, cutting across Cora. "Robert, are you trying to be difficult? We need to keep the house, the money, in the family."

"Mama, I know you're hoping to have it all tied up by The Season, don't pretend otherwise. You want to make sure he's not in the stud books when enquiries are made about his fortune. I'm just as anxious to get everything settled, and save Matthew from such a fate, but I'd like him to feel a little more at ease here before we spring this on him and you're not exactly being subtle. Are you worried he'll be snapped up by another American heiress if you leave him open and unattached?"

Violet was aghast. "I hope it won't come to that!"

Cora decided to let the slight slide, as she so often did. "Shall I ring for some tea?"

"Not for me, I have to meet Cripps at five. I'll see you at dinner." With Robert exiting the room, Cora had little choice but to continue on with her mother-in-law. Violet's scowl was slightly more pronounced that her usual dog-chewing-a-wasp visage and so Cora ventured to draw her out. "You don't seem very pleased."

The older woman inclined her head. "I'm pleased. It could all be moving a little faster, but I'm pleased with Edith. Do you think Matthew is on the same page as the rest of us?"

"Well, I'm not sure. He doesn't single her out particularly, but they are getting along."

"Hmm."

There was clearly something still lingering so Cora pressed bravely on. "So?"

"I'm worried that we are not seeing more attention from his side. And I don't want Mary to use a marriage like this to further retreat from her family. More than that, I don't want you and Robert to continue to let her do so."

"What do you mean? There hasn't been any difference in her…"

"And is that not, in itself, odd? The girl lost her husband, but has she come to any of us about it? Has she referred to anything: an event, a conversation, even a book she read, during the course of her marriage? Or has she just returned here after more than two years away as if nothing ever happened? You and Robert aren't in the least bit curious as to why she's so eager to embrace her past life? Could you return so easily to your childhood home?"

Cora scoffed, dismissing Violet's concerns out of hand. "That's different! She's young, she was only married for a short period and you know full well what she's like. Mary loves Downton and would relish the chance to live here whatever the circumstances. More than that, she is an enigma to all of us when she wants to be. She'll be working through it in her head- when she's ready she may come to us."

"And you don't think bringing Matthew here, tying him more closely to the family, will be a problem? She already resents him and she's not going to be happy with the arrangement for her sister. Or the fact it puts Edith and Matthew in Downton while she is on the out."

"The price of saving Downton is to accept Matthew Crawley as the heir. Mary will just have to live with that. I don't think she really dislikes Matthew. In fact, in another time, another place, I think she could have really admired him."

Violet started slightly at this, and for a moment her face clouded over as if she was contemplating something deeply. She said nothing, however, and so Cora continued; "There's nothing more to be said. Edith and Matthew will do very well together. Mary will accept it and adapt. There will be some stubbornness, as there always is with Mary, but you know in the end she will do what is best for Downton as she has in the past, every time it has been asked of her."

Violet studied Cora, her contemplative frown not completely gone. A thought had struck her, and it was as if she was experiencing _déjà vu_, or recalling the snippets of a half-remembered dream. In truth, she had semi-consciously contemplated the same thoughts before, watching Mary and Matthew's equally matched, if hostile, exchanges across the dining table, and in quite conversation with the latter when he promised that he would do his best to win Mary around.

Could Mary ever really have admired a middle-class solicitor from Manchester? What about her Papa's heir, who had come up in the world and was doing everything he could to rise to his new station? Or even a man who had already proved himself her intellectual equal, able to challenge her and meet her challenges, and so not allowing her to walk all over him? Could it be that they were wrong about Matthew and Edith? Ever so wrong?

* * *

><p>Matthew had spotted Edith from some distance away as he peddled his way home. The Downton daughters were a reasonably common site in the village, but their visits and errands tended to take place in the mornings, so he knew it must be something particular to take her there at that time of day. With a cheery peal of his bell, he cycled in one handed, doffing his hat as she turned to acknowledge him.<p>

"Oh." Being suddenly presented by the person at the forefront of your mind was alarming, particularly as Edith was already nervous about what she was here to say. She had hoped to miss him, and leave a note with Molesley or his mother, thereby saving herself the embarrassment of issuing the invitation, but here he was. Well, at least he appeared to be in a cheerful mood. Swallowing down her trepidation, she gave him a happy smile and walked towards him as he coasted around the corner, dismounting alongside her.

Matthew offered her a wide smile. "Hello. I'd offer you a lift if I could."

"It was you I was coming to see." The truth in intention, if not in hope.

"Well then your timing is matchless." Edith made a mental note of that. If there was a reason to make this type of visit again, and she both hoped and dreaded such an event, any chance of avoiding, or indeed catching him meant keeping that in mind.

There was a slight pause and, while it probably only lasted a few seconds at most, Edith decided it was most uncomfortable. Matthew was looking at her in inquiry and she realised that, as she had come looking for him, he was waiting for her to explain herself.

"You'll remember that we've spoken a number of times about seeing the local churches and the other day at dinner, Cousin Isobel brought it up again." At his nod she continued. "Mama has suggested that we go out when the hunt is here on Saturday. Downton will be busy, and it's a weekend, so you'll be off work."

"You're right I do want to see some. I want to know more about the county generally if I'm to live here." He hesitated, "…but I also need to see events running at Downton. Should I not be there to see the hunt off, even if I'm not participating?"

This was an unexpected excuse and Edith was momentarily caught off guard. "Oh…well, there will be plenty more hunts. Its only you and I have been talking about doing this for ages, and I thought, and Mama agrees, that this weekend would be a good opportunity. Keep us entertained and yet out from underfoot."

She scrambled a little more for some way to sweeten the deal- this was not going as well as she might have hoped. Appealing to his good nature usually worked, so she tried that. "It's more for my benefit, really. I'm not much of a horsewoman, unlike Mary and Sybil. I'd only get in the way so you'll be saving me and giving me a useful occupation."

Edith stopped short of batting her eyelashes at him. It was a trick she'd read about, but she decided to have a practice in front of the mirror first.

Matthew smiled at her. She really did seem interested in his little hobby- this was not the first time she'd brought it up- and as she needed to employ herself, and was willing to do so for his benefit, he was happy to go along with it. He had no pressing engagements for Saturday, he supposed. "Well, if it will kill two birds with one stone, getting you out from underfoot while we enjoy the architecture; it sounds like a wonderful idea."

Edith flushed with achievement. "I thought I'd show you a few of the nearer ones. We could take a picnic and make a day of it."

"That really is very kind, Edith."

She smiled and looked away, embarrassed. He really did seem happy with the prospect: the prospect of spending time with her! "Nonsense. I'll enjoy it. It's too long since I played the tourist."

_Well_, thought Matthew, _she seems willing enough_. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was very much looking forward to the prospect of viewing the churches this weekend. If Edith wanted to tag along, it was okay with him. He really didn't relish the idea of dragging her around the sites if she wasn't going to be interested herself. After all, he knew he could get quite absorbed by his surroundings.

"Very well. Thank you." He grinned at her, genuinely pleased by their plans.

"I'll get Lynch to sort out the governess cart and I'll pick you up at about eleven." Edith started on the path home, beaming and bouncing. Matthew even thought he might have heard a slight giggle – and that gave him pause for thought.

* * *

><p>"Which churches will you show him?" Anna asked while lacing Mary's corset. The latter was doing her best to ignore the conversation going on around her. Really, Edith's pursuit of Matthew was bordering on the ludicrous. Mary was surprised she wasn't practicing batting her lashes as she sat at the vanity. Instead she was grinning superciliously at her plans for the weekend, and they all had to listen…<p>

"I can't decide. Kirby, possibly. Or perhaps Easingwold."

_Enough_. Mary could take no more, enough! "You don't think you're being a bit obvious?"

Edith looked affronted. "I really don't know what you mean."

As Anna slipped yet another black evening dress over her Lady's head, she hid Mary's grimace as she contemplated what to say next. This was not a conversation she had meant to start with Edith now, but it had been running through her head for a while and was clearly becoming imperative. With a small nod of dismissal to Anna, she took a seat on the edge of her bed, leaning forward to look Edith in the eye.

"It's just that…" she paused. How to go about this with the sister who was never willing to listen to her advice, or anything she had to say? And people called _her_ the stubborn one! Feeling her ire rise as she contemplated the weeks of frustration at the situation, at Edith, at her parents and most of all at Matthew, in the end, when she began talking, she fairly exploded:

"Edith, you've never been interested in visiting churches on Sundays, let alone any other day of the week. You stopped studying Greek as soon as Granny told you she thought it was unladylike, mostly because you weren't getting anywhere with it, but now you're trying to read all the tomes Papa has in the library, just because Cousin Matthew said he was a fan. Could you even find contemporary Greece on a map? Do you know what Solon reformed? The cause of Antigone's despair? How Themistocles lured the Persians into a trap? (5)

"And all the grinning over the table at Mama every time you manage to get a word in edgeways with him? It's cringe-worthy and it has to stop, for your own self-pride, if not for the sake of those who have to witness it and be mortified _for_ you!"

Edith now looked as though she'd been slapped. _Yes_, thought Mary, _probably could have handled that better_.

"There's nothing wrong in showing interest, Mary. I happen to like Matthew, and I think he needs someone on his side while you scowl and scorn him. Who better than me, when I know exactly how it feels to be on the receiving end of both?"

Mary got up again and began to pace in front of her sister. "So you like Matthew."

"Yes."

"You want to help him with his new start here at Downton."

"Of course."

"You want to share his interests."

"Why not?"

Mary threw up her arms at her sister's sheep-like behaviour "You've never shown interest in such things before!"

"Well Mama thinks it's good I'm broadening my horizons."

Eyes rolled heavenward, the elder sister continued with her point. "Has he shown any similar inclination to share _your_ interests? Has he asked you to play for him, or what book you're reading lately, or even to accompany him and Papa when they go out on the Estate? To accompany him anywhere, for that matter?"

"Well…no, but we're generally too busy talking about him because _I _ask. Not everyone is so caught up in themselves that they can't go three minutes in conversation without making it all about them." Edith was shaking and she was sure she was bright red in the face - she had never been any good at confrontation, no matter how much practice Mary gave her.

Mary exhaled a heavy sigh- could her sister _still_ not read between the lines? "Who was it that suggested that you should help ease his transition into Downton?"

Initially defensive, Edith was now getting really riled. What was Mary's problem? "You know full well that Mama and Granny sent me down to meet him and Cousin Isobel when they first arrived."

"Yes, and they've been encouraging your furthered interaction since?"

"Of course. Some of us want Matthew to be happy here. We've accepted that he is the new heir and we're getting on with it."

"And quite rightly they've suggested that you can be his Countess in waiting, which is fine because you like him." The mocking dripped from every word.

Still defensive, but less sure of herself when her motives were questioned directly, Edith looked away, but nodded all the same.

"But what do you really know about him? What are his politics? How does he spend his money? How does he treat his friends? Women? Children? Animals? Does he care for London? Has he even spent much time there? What would he have done with his life if he hadn't become Papa's heir? You can't just make a play for him on Mama's and Granny's say so!"

"We're spending time together, getting to know each other. I'm not marrying him tomorrow!"

"Bu you would, wouldn't you? If he was willing and Mama and Papa told you to, you would."

"Well…"

"And all to keep Downton."

Edith's fury was clear as she leapt to her feet to face her sister, leaning in until they were practically nose to nose. She could no longer stand what she read as hypocrisy. "You did it with Patrick! Even though you didn't like him! Even though you knew how I felt about him!"

Mary realised now that she _really_ hadn't gone about this the right way. She softened her tone and took Edith by the shoulders, trying to physically compel her to hear what she was trying to say. "I did. I was foolish, and I was paid out for my folly."

Edith tutted and looked away- she really hated it when Mary made out that being with Patrick was any sort of hardship. And she hated listening to her preachy advice on the subject which always followed such statements…

"You know, marriage to a man you barely know is…"

Edith exploded, fairly roaring at her sister. "What would you know about it? You _knew_ Patrick! We all _knew_ Patrick! He was our cousin and we'd _known_ him _all_ of our _lives_. You had it all, Mary, and you didn't appreciate it. Now that it's gone, now that _Patrick_ has gone, you're trying to take it all from me and it won't work. I won't let you."

Bringing her arms up between them she pushed outwards, breaking the hold Mary had on her shoulders, and stormed out of the room. She should have known better than to come here, to leave herself open to Mary's bitterness and to be reminded of Patrick- the deepest of the scars on her heart that Mary had inflicted over their lifetime together.

On her way out, she pushed past her mother who was about to enter Mary's room with a note. "Darling?"

Edith didn't turn around, just lifted and hand to wave her mother off. Cora gave a sigh and rolled her eyes- her daughters had been at it again, apparently. Turning back to her destination, she poked her head around Mary's door. "There was a letter from Evelyn Napier in the evening post."

Mary closed her eyes and breathed deeply, bringing herself out of the confrontation with her sister in order to answer her mother appropriately. "Oh, and did he accept? You know I really think it will be alright for me to stay here. Evelyn's a friend, it won't matter that I'm in mourning."

"I'm sure you're right darling but he hasn't accepted yet. Apparently, that friend that I told you about, the diplomat? He's an attaché at the Turkish embassy. A Mr Kemal Pamuk…"

* * *

><p>(1) "Stand in front of a mirror and repeat 'niminy piminy.' The lips cannot fail to take the right plié." Said by Lady Emily to Miss Alscrip in The Heiress (1786) by General John Burgoyne. In the play, Lord Gayville is engaged to Miss Alscrip, a fashionable woman he believes to be an heiress. Gayville later discovers that the woman who will inherit the fortune is his true love, Miss Clifford. The phrase ridicules an affected mode of pronunciation.<p>

(2) Genesis 9, 2-3.

(3) Thought by some to be the origins of the phrase 'a red herring'- a smoked herring (or kipper) dragged through the countryside, initially to teach dogs to follow trails, and then used to send them on false trails. There is little evidence to suggest that this was ever done, but I liked the image of Matthew dragging his breakfast across the countryside ; o)

(4) This is a quotation from that great philosopher of our time… Jim Carrey. Erm, yeah. Well, it's a nice sentiment, and it fitted, so we'll go with it.

(5) Stolen, nearly wholesale, from Travels with Herodotus by Ryszard Kapuscinski. Amazing book and it just had the _most_ fitting passage. If you enjoy travel journals/histories I urge you to give it, or any of his works, a try.


	8. Chapter 8

Mary wandered through the stables, weaving past grooms busily preparing mounts, and idly petting heads that appeared over stalls as she came near. Towards the end of the line she stooped to grab an apple from the bucket in the corner and reached out to allow Diamond to nose it softly from her palm, caressing his neck and mane with her other hand as he did so. "Oh my sweet boy, don't you wish we were going too?" Mary crooned to him. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise." She leaned her forehead against his as he dropped his head down to nudge affectionately at her stomach. "We'll go on a nice long hack- all the way to Cotter's Wood."

"Lady Mary?"

Mary stepped back a pace from her horse and smiled in welcome as she turned towards the familiar voice. "Evelyn! Are you ready for the off? I don't think you'll be long now."

"Yes. It should be a great run this morning. It's a shame you'll not be joining us."

She smiled, a tight expression, and shook her head. "Impossible at the moment, unfortunately. Diamond and I were just commiserating with each other." She reached up to pat the horse again as he shifted in his stall, upset at being momentarily ignored.

Evelyn took in her attire- a modest skirt and high-necked blouse, both in unadorned black. It was notably different from the bright, highly fashionable ensembles his friend would have worn in the past. Or, indeed, the hunting attire she should have been wearing to join them for the mornings sport. "You know, I've always thought that mourning should be a personal decision, not one dictated by society." He paused, not wanting to give offence but really, with everything he knew about her deceased husband's activities, it was absurd to see his friend dressed in such a fashion. "To be forced to mourn a man such as Patrick, not to mention having to give up something you love doing, all when he never gave up any of his pleasures…"

Seeing Lynch approaching over Evelyn's shoulder Mary cut him off quickly and loudly, lest any of _that_ conversation make it back to her father. "And what about Mr Pamuk? I gather if he takes a tumble you'll be endangering world peace."

Napier saw the desperation on her face, and heard it in the breathlessness of her voice, and let the matter drop. With a smirk and slight eye-roll of forced joviality he followed her unspoken request to take up the new topic of conversation. "Don't worry about Kemal. He knows what he's doing on a horse."

"Oh, well, where is he?"

"Fussing. He's rather a dandy."

Mary smiled too, trying to capture the former pleasantness of the morning. "And I can see him now. A funny little foreigner with a wide, toothy grin and hair reeking of pomade."

"I wouldn't quite say that." At the sound of a slight scuffle Evelyn half turned to back to where another man was skirting the narrow passage between the stalls, grooms and horses. He inclined his head in that direction. "Here he is now."

Mary looked up and was stunned at the good-looking man before her. A dandy he may have been compared to Evelyn, who sometimes had a rather slap-dash approach to his attire, but there was nothing particularly extravagant in his appearance. It was clear that he took pride in his personal grooming, and it paid off.

Pamuk appraised her as well, and was not unaffected by what he saw. "Lady Mary Crawley, I presume?"

Mary was still a little breathless as she answered, taken completely off guard by his appearance. "You presume right."

"Sorry to be so dishevelled. We've been on a train since dawn and we had to change in a shed." Which excused Evelyn's slightly haphazard appearance, this once at least, normal as it was for him.

"You don't look dishevelled to me."_ Quite the opposite_. He was a handsome man, there was no denying it. The slight accent only added to his allure, as did the look in his dark eyes as he gazed at her. It was clear to Mary that he knew his power, and how to use it, and that level of self-awareness rang warning bells - she'd had up close and personal experience with a man who knew the extent of his charms, and how to maximise their effect on others.

The sound of the hunting horn startled the pair from their locked gaze, and both men made to take their leave of her. Hurrying away, Pamuk took a last, lingering look back at Mary, who returned his gaze, before moving closer to Evelyn. "She is widowed, you say?"

"Yes, quite recently, really. He went down with…" Evelyn continued, but that was all the information that Pamuk needed. Oh yes, he would enjoy the chase today very much.

* * *

><p>Edith was already growing bored. Matthew <em>really<em> was interested in these blasted churches. Conversation had been pleasant on the initial drive out of the village but, after exhausting the usual pleasantries, Matthew had noticed she had her father's book of local churches with her and buried himself in it thoroughly until they go to their first stop. On arrival, he became completely absorbed in cross beams, marquetry inlay and load bearing arches. He even commented excitedly on sconces, stained glass and lead roofing. Fonts were a source of never ending joy, and Edith could only hope to summon the most accepting of smiles.

Time and again, she had tried to draw him out of himself and the Neoclassical/Gothic/ Romanesque/Baroque wonder they happened to be standing in. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she was trying to address some of the concerns that Mary had planted the other day.

"I wish we could talk a little more about you. What was it like, growing up in Manchester?"

Time and again, she was rebuffed. Not harshly, but often it seemed as if Matthew hardly knew she was there, and if it hadn't been for the book, he wouldn't have spoken or listened to her at all.

"Does it say anything about the side aisles?"

"The side aisles were added in the 14th century by Bishop Richard De Warren."

"Yes, you can see that in the treatment of the stone." Edith looked, really she did, but she had no idea where it could be seen. Which stone was he looking at? The whole wall appeared to be made of them. Instead, she tried another track, trying to promote an air of romanticism in proceedings.

On a breathy sigh she mused, "It's wonderful to think of all those men and women worshipping together through the centuries, isn't it?"

Matthew gave her a tight-lipped smile and she took it as a sign to continue waxing poetic. "Dreaming and hoping." Really, she had no idea where she was going with this, but it didn't look as if it mattered much anyway as Matthew wandered past her, fully absorbed. She hoped it was in contemplation of her words, rather than in the roof slats or cornices or something of that nature.

"Much as we do, I suppose." She approached him slowly, sure that he must feel something of the atmosphere she was trying to create, even if he was too shy to acknowledge it. She fluttered her eyelids as she had been practicing, but Matthew didn't see. His eyes, and the majority of his thoughts, were firmly on the alcove in front of him. "Was the screen a Cromwell casualty?"

"I dare say." Edith moved to his side, determined to be as interested in the gap in the wall as he was. What she hadn't banked on was the tiny space in Matthew's head given up to other thoughts;

"I wonder how Mary's getting on. She'll miss being part of the hunt."

Edith was horrified by this turn of events! Mary? Who was thinking about Mary! She was probably sulking at home, playing the part of grieving widow to perfection for once because she wanted to be out having fun. "Yes, she likes to be in at the kill."

Matthew mentally chalked up another slight in the Edith/Mary war of words and decided to bring Edith around to the business of the day before true bitterness seeped in to spoil it for him as well as her. Enthusiastically, he asked: "Where shall we go next?" secretly amused to see the slump in Edith's shoulders. Really, if she wasn't interested, she shouldn't have offered to bring him.

* * *

><p>Dinner that evening was a strained affair. Discussions of the emancipation of housemaids were never going to go over well with Violet, especially if she could take up against Isobel. Mary kept largely to herself, as befitted her current status when not dining en familie, but the looks passing between her and their new diplomatic friend did not go unnoticed by Matthew, who had been hoping to catch her eye with the vague idea that the maid's tale would be a chance to show how similar their liberal policies were. On the contrary, with the larger party, Mary had gotten away with saying even less to him than usual.<p>

After dinner Edith cornered Matthew, amusing him again by her insistence that she had enjoyed the day. With her determination to repeat the experience, he was determined to take his mother along next time. He wasn't putting himself in _that_ situation again and if the way out of it was found in tying himself to his mother's apron-strings then so be it. From the corner of his eye he saw Mary retreat from the room, and a few seconds later Pamuk went away too. It looked as though the party was beginning to break up, so he escaped to his mother's side, ready for when they would leave.

* * *

><p>In the hallway, Pamuk caught up to Mary who was on her way to bed. She meant to keep her promise to Diamond and wanted to get in a good night's sleep. Her mind on other things entirely, she was shocked when a hand landed on her arm, and aghast when she was pulled into a kiss, before being backed against a wall.<p>

Identifying her assailant as he pulled back to judge her response, she remained startled. Yes, she had found him attractive, and while there were two pleasant faces to look at over dinner, his being the lesser of two evils, she had not considered this. "Mr Pamuk!"

"Let me come to you tonight, please."

Mary was momentarily speechless but recovered herself after a few seconds pause. _What was the man thinking?_ "I can't think what I have said that has led you to believe…"

"In your situation it is not unheard of. Common, I think, when a highly desirable woman is left alone at your age. Please, I don't know when we will meet again. So, let it be tonight."

"Really, I…"

"Evelyn has suggested that yours was not a happy alliance and yet there must be elements of your marriage that you miss." He paused, studying her face intently for a few seconds, before leaning in even closer. "Your marriage bed, for example."

Mary remained silent, unsure of her answer. He wasn't wrong- she had never loved Patrick, thank God, but still, he'd had plenty of practice that insured she was skilled in the physical arts of a marriage. Kemal noted her indecision and pressed on, determined to use it to his advantage.

"If I wanted to kiss you again would you agree?"

Mary looked affronted but attempted to hide her outright shock behind well-practiced indifference. "If you were asking my permission I would, of course, ask you not to do that again."

"And if I did not?"

She paused and looked away from him, ashamed but truthful in her answer. "Then I might find it difficult to resist."

He raked his eyes over her, taking in her rapid breathing and the effect it had on her…charms. Pulling back a little he made way for her to pass, yet as she turned slightly to do so he leant in again, now pressing his front against her side. Mary stopped short and moved her head to look at him, their faces centimetres from each other. "I will come to you," he whispered, and at that, Mary fled, walking as quickly yet steadily as she could manage.

At the bottom step she looked back at him, catching his eye as he watched her retreat. Pausing, she said nothing but quirked an eyebrow in contemplation and indecision before continuing on her way to bed. As she went she decided that it was probably a good thing that he had no way of knowing where her room was.

* * *

><p>It was hours later, when the house was dark and silent, that he appeared at her door. Mary was still awake, unable to sleep while half hoping, half dreading the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside. With his entrance nothing was said and he approached the bed, full of the self-confidence that Mary had recognised, and distrusted, earlier. He was someone who did this sort of thing often, she knew. It should have bothered her, it should have at least given her pause, a reason to protest, but for once the illicit secret would be hers rather than just the shame of keeping them for another and the sake of self-preservation.<p>

When he finally came to her it was hard, bruising and demanding. Perfectly normal in Mary's view of the act - she had never known it to be any other way. There were few signs of affection, certainly nothing that could be mistaken for love. Only the selfish desires for sensation as they pressed against each other so tightly, it was as if they were trying to tangibly smother their secret as they created it. While they stole what they could from one another, Mary lost herself to the sensation, her only conscious thought was that there was surprisingly little from her consciences to tell her that this was wrong.

At least, until he cried out and stilled- not in the way she was expecting.

_Well_, she thought, _that's an inconvenience_.

* * *

><p>In a daze Mary woke Anna who suggested waking her mother, too. In the course of doing so, perhaps not as carefully as she could have been had she been a compromised maiden, her father was also awakened. He was naturally livid.<p>

"He's what?"

"Dead, Papa. In my room."

"In your room?" Mary raised an eyebrow at her papa's slowly awakening thought process. "In your bed!"

Mary blew out a long breath. Yes, yes, it was all very distressing; but really, could they hurry the indignation along so that they moved to the part where removing the dead man from her room became the priority?

"I'm a widow, Papa. I'm certainly not the first to take a lover and I won't be the last." Really, it's not as if her virtue needed to be protected.

It wasn't that she felt nothing at all in the face of his death - she'd never seen a dead body before and it had taken some before she had shaken herself enough to wake Anna. While it was awful, and she felt cold to her bones when she thought about it, her practical nature refused to let her dwell on it for the time being. It would really be better to find a useful solution to the corpse problem now, and take her chastisement later.

"And I suppose you'll tell me _he _won't be the last, either?"

She looked momentarily affronted but recovered herself quickly. "Well I don't know, but _he _is the one that's causing the problem now!"

"Mary do not speak to you father in that tone, especially at the moment!" Her mother wiped a hand over her face and sighed heavily. "Robert, she is right, we need to do _something_. While I'm sure Mary knows how disappointed we are with her choices," her mother glared. "She's right that it's a common enough one to have made in her position. Now we need to deal with what's happened and try and minimise any fuss."

"Thank you, Mama." The exasperated relief in her voice, as well as the beckoning motions she made to try and get her parents to move did not go over well, and so Cora continued in a firmer tone;

"However, I am _livid_ that you did this in your father's house and I certainly don't want to hear of any such behaviour - or _any_ consequences - again! And, as I live and breathe, your sisters will _never_ hear _anything_ of this. Do I make myself clear?"

Mary nodded, her head down, eyes on her bare toes.

Cora sighed again, only half believing her daughters very sudden repentance. "Now, what do we do?"

* * *

><p>It was oddly bright for early December, Matthew decided as he made his way to the big house. The fine day was particularly at odds with the sad event that had taken place at the Abbey, but then life was not a Hardy novel, and the brilliant sunlight did not have to pander to the goings-on of the mortals under it. He'd wanted to come up yesterday to offer his commiserations on the untimely death of Mr Pamuk, and see if there was anything he could do, but his mother had assured him they could only be in the way.<p>

Glancing around, he saw Mary walking through the trees to his right and struck out on a new path, hopeful for the opportunity to being a discourse away from others, an opportunity he'd wanted for a long time. That it came now, under such circumstances, meant that _again_ he was denied the chance to bring up anything of real significance.

"Cousin Mary."

"Hello. Are we expecting you?" There was a slight edge in her voice, she knew, but today she really didn't have the energy to put all that much behind it.

"No, but I wanted to see you." He coughed, and recovered himself quickly. "See you all, I mean, after the incident. I looked for you yesterday at church."

"I wasn't feeling up to it. None of us were."

"It must have been a horrible shock."

"Yes."

"And he seemed a nice fellow." Mary quirked an eyebrow- she had her doubts about that- he reminded her too much of Patrick to be _nice_, but what they shared, briefly, was nice. Something she hadn't realised she was missing. She had enjoyed herself for a time…if not the outcome, and so she only said in a measured tone: "He was." Let Cousin Matthew make of that what he would!

"Well, if there is anything I can do, please ask."

He was so sincere, so obliging, and, for all that she fought the acknowledgement, so _good. _In that moment, Mary could not hold on to her animosity. Had she ever met such a man of truly _good_ intentions before? When she held him up next to men like Patrick, Pamuk and even, on occasion, her father, she had to own that truly she had not.

For the first time she smiled at him, _really_ smiled at _him_-knowing who he was, and what he meant for her and Downton. "For Mr Pamuk? There isn't. Thank you."

"Or for you? To have to face the death of another young man so recently after…well." Matthew bumbled to a halt, inwardly cursing himself for the gap between his brain and his mouth. Realising that referencing a young woman's dead husband in conversation was amazingly tactless he was left feeling even more stupid that usual in front of Lady Mary, clutching at his hat.

Mary starred at him for some indeterminate period of time, holding him with her gaze. She could see he thought she meant it as chastisement for his minor thoughtlessness, but in fact she was contemplating doing something that would require her to be brave. She was not a liar, never that, but as they had never really conversed before, she had no idea what to say about Patrick. She didn't want his pity but, she realised suddenly, she did not want him to misunderstand her. This oddly compelling, and essentially good man, should not be left in ignorance to perhaps make some of the same mistakes as his predecessor.

"You know," she began conversationally, but as she talked she turned her back to him and looked out over the grounds. "There are two types of widows: the bereaved and the relieved."

Matthew waited, but she said nothing else and instead resumed her walk, moving slowly, almost aimlessly, away from him, without further reference to his presence. It was clear that it was a dismissal, and while it was abrupt and puzzling, he could find no trace of the cold parting he had been expecting, given their history.

He turned what she had said over in his head; _"There are two types of widows: the bereaved and the relieved."_ In making the statement it was clear that Mary was the latter, but why? And why tell him? There was no making her out, and until he could claim to know her better this was just another piece of the puzzle. He gazed after her but despite the marked thaw in their conversation, now was not the time to pursue this, or anything else, with her.

Mary instinctively knew when he retreated and when he was far enough away that there was little danger of him turning back to her, she turned to watch him, tipping her head to the side in silent contemplation.

* * *

><p>Later that evening, still considering the events of the last two days, Mary slumped back into the chair at her vanity. She was weary and more than anything wanted to sleep, but her brain was going a hundred miles a minute and was clearly not going to stop until she had thought some things through. More than the death of her short-term and ill-fated lover, one thought had been nagging at her all evening - Edith and Matthew. In truth, it had been plaguing her mind for far longer, but it was only today, in seeing his character so clearly for the first time, that her mind would not let her rest. Now, in the stillness of her room, she allowed herself to say their names, aloud, together to the mirror, and a shiver ran up her spine. The thought of them together, as her parents intended, chilled her to the bone. There were just so many things wrong with the idea.<p>

Mary despaired at the thought of either of her sisters making the sacrifices she had had to make. Had her parents and grandmother learned nothing? Her parents she could almost forgive, she hadn't told them of the situation with Patrick, but their own short-sightedness when it came to her marriage staggered her to this day. Her grandmother, on the other hand, knew a little more of what had been going on. Mary had never confided in her, indeed she had not meant to say anything to anyone, but you couldn't hide things from Granny. That she was prepared to potentially put Edith in the same situation- it was beyond comprehension!

Oh, Mary had little doubt that the situation would end up being somewhat different- surely even two branches of the same Crawley tree couldn't produce two men such as Patrick. Still, something in the match felt fundamentally wrong. In part, Mary could already imagine the galling nature of the arrangement- that it should be Edith who would get to take _her_ place as mistress of Downton; as the Countess of Grantham and forward the continuation of the Crawley line in the family seat. Oh, how it would be lauded over her with insincere sympathies and placations in public and amused spite when they were alone. But somehow it wasn't just the unfairness of the situation. She and Edith had never been the best of friends and while she didn't want this for her sister, Mary felt there was more to her revulsion at the plan than that.

Her mother's implied remedy to her own problems arising from this scheme was the culmination of every horrible thing Mary could imagine- that she might stay a guest in this house as it passes from her father's hands to those of Edith and her husband. To live on in her adolescent rooms like one of the horrid family heirlooms; hated by each generation but looked after through sentimentality, because that was what one does. She would be the widowed aunt to Edith's no doubt beastly children, haunting the lanes between the Dower House where she visited, or even lived, with her aging mother, and the Abbey, where day and night the picture of smugly wedded bliss was played out in front of her.

No, though shuddering at the images that played in her minds-eye, there was more to her feelings of horror at the plan than that, as well. There was something in the thought of _Edith _and _Matthew_ that was so profoundly and sickeningly wrong that she felt it to the pit of her stomach. Edith deserved to fall, truly and irrevocably, in love with someone who would sweep her off her feet and stand for none of her machinations. True, her mother had said that Edith was fond of him but… she scoffed to herself, Edith was hopelessly _fond_ of anything in trousers, especially if they had the misfortune to pay her the slightest bit of attention. As a man of sense, surely Matthew couldn't have fallen for Edith and her forced charms so quickly, if at all. If his general treatment of Edith, the same polite interest as he showed everyone else, was anything to go by, there was no particular regard that Mary could detect.

Matthew, little boy lost that he was all wrapped up in big blue eyes and floppy blond hair, was of such a good humoured nature that he would let Edith, and her occasionally mean spirited nature, run all over him. While decent in his own right, he was not of the disposition that would stand up to Edith and show her that she needn't compete with Mary- especially as she was the only one in the competition- that she was able to be loved for her own sake. Matthew…well, he just wouldn't do for Edith at all. He was clearly absurd- he needed someone who would appreciate that about him and make him laugh at himself, not a sycophant who would agree with everything he said, but feel no real affection for him. He was unlikely to deserve the years of spite and malice that he would witness should Edith live to laude her lot in life over Mary, using him as a piece in a game, just as her parents were.

It boiled down to the fact that Matthew and Edith were wrong for each other. Ever so wrong. Despite her own residual feelings of resentment towards his position, the fact that he was to be as much of a pawn in her parents manoeuvrings as she herself had been took a little wind out of her sails. Mary decided then and there not to let him fall, blindly, into the family's trap- or the arms of her misguided sister. If he went willingly, then more fool him, but she was going to make sure they were all on the same page.

* * *

><p><em>Well, there he is... and indeed, there he stays. No multi-season angst here. These two already have enough to contend with without Pamuk-based-drama, and Mary is a widow, not a maiden- the standards are very different. <em>

_ Was it as bad as you were dreading? I'd love to hear what you thought. Perhaps not enough drama? Perhaps Mary's thoughts on waking her parents were a little out of character? These are things that I considered but I generally liked it as it was so left it. Let me know._

_Did you see how big and shiny they've made the review button? Don't you just want to press it? ;)_


	9. Chapter 9

Anna was glad to see the fair in town- it didn't come often and it was just the thing to help take them all out of themselves. It had been a dreary few months- after a glorious Indian summer they'd had a bitter winter and a completely washed-out spring. In the last 4 weeks, the nearly continuous rain had meant that very few people had even ventured to or from the village, beyond that which was considered strictly necessary, and so everyone had been kept cooped up quietly at home.

Or, at least, quietly to begin with; up at the big house tensions were running unusually high both upstairs and down, due to the lack of escape and the mounting tedium. Battle lines had been drawn several times between various combatants; Ladies Mary and Edith, Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore, Mrs Patmore and Daisy, a most dignified disagreement between Lady Grantham and Mrs Hughes had also led to some terse words being exchanged between Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson, Thomas and Mr Bates, Thomas and William, Thomas and Mr Carson and even, on occasion, Thomas and Miss O'Brien. It was a blessing that a flood in a lower paddock had made the neighbouring driveway to the Dower House inaccessible by car, otherwise Old Lady Grantham could have been thrown into any, if not all, of the frays, the relative status of the warring factions be damned.

No one below stairs would ever admit to it out loud, but they were all desperate for the extra work and distraction a hunt, a dinner party, or even an extended family dinner with the Crawleys would bring. The fair, with all its gaiety and festiveness, coming at just the right time- the first real break in the rain- was just the thing to blow off the cobwebs. Gwen's idea of getting a party up was a good one, particularly if they could get Daisy to join them- she'd not been herself for months and the rain-induced confinement hadn't helped.

While Anna was musing on the possibility of getting as many people as possible out of the house at once with the permission of Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson, she spotted Lady Mary across the way and told the others she would follow on. It seemed that everyone was taking advantage of the break in the rain to come into the village and Anna was particularly pleased to see Lady Mary out and about and, more importantly, _being seen_.

"Good-day, my lady, you're looking very well." As she said it, Anna reached forward to tug slightly on the cuff of Mary's sleeve, drawing attention to the accenting band of cloth there, before letting her hand fall away almost immediately. It was a small, quick movement, but it caused Mary to look down, first at her dress, and then to Anna. As their eyes met, both women grinned hugely.

They moved to walk side-by-side, companionably strolling through the amusements that would be on offer that evening. "Your heart must feel all the lighter, my lady."

Mary pulled a face that was full of sardonic amusement. "Haven't you heard? I don't have a heart. Everyone knows that. At least, everyone who listens to Edith." The last was said on a slight huff and the amused expression on Mary's face waivered as she looked away into middle the distance.

"Never let it be said that I disagree with any of my mistresses!" Mary blinked and turned her head sharply to look at Anna, surprised that she would say such a thing when the young maid had always been her champion, but it was Anna's turn to look away, smirking. "But then, I'm paid to listen to Lady Edith. How many other people can say they do the same voluntarily?" They shared amused, conspiratorial smiles, and continued on their separate ways; Anna to Downton and Mary to visit her grandmother.

* * *

><p>Mary loved the Dower House. It had taken some time but her father had finally convinced Granny to let them install electricity throughout the building, making it an even warmer, more appealing home. It looked positively cosy in comparison to Downton with its significantly smaller staff and the charming rose garden that had always seemed so friendly, so comfortable to Mary. As she looked around she realised, with some regret, that she would never live there now. It was an odd thing to mourn really, given the circumstances that, one-by-one, installed her female ancestors there, but given the realities of her marriage it was something she had looked forward to in her dotage. Still, the pretty grey stone house would never be hers now, and, like many other things promised to her, she would have to learn to do without it.<p>

She smiled up at her grandmother as Violet joined her at the little table outside. While the sky still looked laden with rain, the downpour itself had let up for a while and they had decided to use the opportunity to take their tea outside for a breath of fresh air.

Violet noticeably regarded in her granddaughters outfit with pleasure as she took her seat, and a pleased twinkle gleamed in Mary's eyes as she returned the smile, noting where her grandmother's gaze had been.

The elder woman, never one for preamble, began the conversation abruptly. "Now, your father tells me you are off to London again."

Mary reached across the table and began to warm the teapot, just as she had been taught to do in this very setting in her childhood; _'…otherwise it might shatter. This was your great-aunt Sarah's teapot - if it doesn't shatter, the cold pot will make the tea as frigid as her spinster heart, and that would never do.'_ She realised that her Granny was similarly warming up for an inquisition, and the familiarity of the little ceremony was something to focus her mind on as she navigated the rocky course of trying to explain her business in London. "Yes."

"But you've only just come back."

Mary shook her head in fond exasperation as she poured the milk into the cups; _'Never the other way, Mary. You must not scald the milk. No English Lady would ever allow herself to scald the milk.'_ "Granny, I last went in February- it's been 3 months, nearly 4, since I was last there."

"I have no patience for all this to-ing and fro-ing you young people take on. What takes you there this time?"

"Business," Mary said shortly, not looking up from her duties, hoping to curtail the conversation as she did her answer.

Violet rapped her stick on the ground, not in anger, but the irritation of not getting her way in the conversation. "My dear that means nothing more to me this time that it has any of the other times you have said it. You are not _in_ business, Mary. You are a Lady, _not_ a tradesman's daughter. It's not as if you have a _job_."

"No, but there are the properties left to me through Patrick's estate. It's the business of those that I have to go for."

"Well we all have holdings, my dear. Surely Murray is taking care of that for you?"

"The thing is, Granny, I don't want Murray to take care of this for me. I want someone else to do it. Someone I can trust."

Violet assessed her shrewdly- Mary had never taken to histrionics, if she had set against Murray there was probably a reason for it. "And you can't trust Murray?"

Mary shook her head decisively, "No."

Her grandmother pursed her lips in disapproval when it was clear that there were no further details forthcoming. "Well then," she huffed, her annoyance clear in her tone.

Feeling guilty for her shortness, Mary tried to offer a little explanation. "That's why I have to go to London. I want to find someone I can trust to look after things- income from those properties may be all I ever have now that Patrick is gone."

Still no clearer, her grandmother pressed. "So what is it you need _exactly_?"

What could Mary tell her? Yes, she clearly knew some of Patrick's behaviour, but to lay the particulars out in front of her elderly grandmother, or in front of anyone, really - surely she could not! She would have to dissemble.

"You see Patrick had some…_friends… _living in those houses. Friends of his that I no longer want to associate with now that he's gone. The only thing is, other friends of his, important friends, want the friends with the leases to stay..."

Violet interrupted her, waiving her hand. "My dear, I'm getting quite lost in all this talk of different groups of _friends_- it's worse than trying to work out where we stand with the Ottoman's in Persia."

Her grandmother had no idea that her comparative had some unbidden meaning for her granddaughter. Mary momentarily allowed her thoughts to be drawn into contemplation of her ill-fated lover. It had been months since Mr Pamuk's visit, and subsequent death, and he rarely crossed her mind. She supposed their assignation had been fun while it lasted, just more-so for him…until its rather abrupt ending. Ah, well. There were plenty more fish in the sea than ever came out of it if she decided to go down that route again.

Violet continued on unaware, of Mary's lapse of attention. "What you want is to get rid of these people, who I assume have some influential backers, not to mention _legal_ holdings on your properties?"

Simple and to the point, Mary thought. Why hadn't she been able to get it across like that? Never let it be said her grandmother didn't have a way with words. "Yes."

Violet nodded and looked away across the roses, deep in thought. "I…I think perhaps I know just the man." When she looked back to Mary, there was resoluteness about her expression that the younger woman knew from experience not to argue with. While the plan had yet to be divulged, Mary knew she would not like it.

* * *

><p>"I hope I'm not a disappointment?" Despite her opening, Violet was almost gleeful to have caught the young lawyer off guard and worked extremely hard to keep her expression somewhat neutral.<p>

Matthew was astonished that any of the Downton ladies would condescend to see him at work. That Cousin Violet was the Lady Grantham announced, rather than Cousin Cora, who was slightly less disparaging of his role in life, shocked him to the point where it was a few seconds before he could say anything. That _she_, in particular, should deign to set foot in his place of work was something that Matthew had never contemplated, even in his wildest dreams, so in answer to her question, _disappointment_ was certainly not the first thing that crossed his mind!

After stumbling through the usual pleasantries and offering refreshment, Matthew gestured to the chair opposite his desk and, when Cousin Violet took it, fairly fell into his own seat, glad that it was there to catch him. Given that Matthew had absolutely no idea what she could possibly be there for, her topic of conversation could only possibly be a surprise to him. And indeed it was.

"You did such a good job of properly investigating your inheritance before you joined us at Downton. Far and away beyond what I believe Murray attempted, but then, you were the one that would have suffered most from any discovery."

The family matriarch looked pointedly at Matthew and so he felt obliged to make a reply, even though there had been no questions in her opening gambit, only a series of statements. The fact that she had him on the back foot was obvious in his stammered reply.

"I-in some ways you're right, m-m-my research was extensive." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I don't wish to claim that Mr Murray has any ignorance of the law, or make any trouble, but I felt it best to make _absolutely_ sure I was not to benefit at Cousin M-Mary's expense." Indeed, he had looked at every possible avenue and, if they were not prepared to make moves to break the entail, benefit from it he would.

Violet nodded sagely, already largely assured of this young man's good character. She now believed in him almost as much as she had been sceptical of him initially. "Putting it bluntly, you have already shown that you are willing to do what's right by this family, and it's in light of that morality that I would like to ask a delicate favour of you."

Violet leaned forward in order to make eye-contact, and in doing so, nearly fell out of her swivel chair. Having righted herself, not without some characteristic harangues through which Matthew battled to keep his countenance, she looked at him steadily.

Matthew thought, not for the first time, that he was being weighed and measured by one of the most astute people he had ever come across, and it was clear that both of them were ready to get to the point.

"What is it that I can do for you, Cousin Violet?"

"It's about Mary." She paused, watching him carefully to see if she could see anything in his face in response to the mention of Mary's name. She thought she saw something, a flicker, unfortunately she would be hard pressed to name the emotion behind it and, given his fractious relationship with her eldest granddaughter it could have been anything between love and loathing. "I'm not sure if she's in trouble or just has some things to sort out. Either way she needs some help, and I think you may be able to offer it."

Cousin _Mary_ needed his help? And yet it was her grandmother that sat in his little Ripon office, the last place he ever through he'd see her, petitioning for it. Did Mary really dislike him so much that she wouldn't come to him if she needed him? And what on earth would she need _him_ for, anyway? He frowned. "Of course, if there is anything I can do…".

"I don't understand the exact nature of what is going on." Violet waved her hand in the air in a dismissive gesture. "She tried to sketch something out for me in very vague terms but there is more to it than she wants to tell me." She looked him dead on. "Indeed, there is something about Patrick that she doesn't want any of us to know."

Matthew nodded his head, slowly. Pieces of the puzzle that made up Cousin Mary were very slowly coming together. So there _was_ something in the cryptic clue she had offered him back in December. Although it had never been touched upon again it was something that played on his mind occasionally. _There are two types of widows; the bereaved and the relieved_.

"Mary has…tentatively suggested to me that her marriage was not entirely happy, but has not relayed any details."

"Yes, well there must be more to it than that. More than even I know. Before Patrick died I knew there was something not right, and I'd heard a few rumours, but nothing that seemed out of character for a young man of his station. A little gadding about town- nothing he wouldn't have grown out of in a few years. Or so I thought. After he died… well, things became clearer as word made its way to me from London, and I know now that that boy was no good for her."

"So you knew nothing untoward at the time of their marriage?" Matthew wanted to be very clear on this point. While Cousin Mary was largely a mystery to him, he had managed to discern a little about her character and some things were very clear; if Mary was holding back from her family she either blamed them, or was protecting them. Or both.

"I knew very little, and nothing that would have dissuaded me that it was a good match for both of them. He was to inherit Downton, she is of steady character. If that had been the end of it, they would have done well together. They were not in love, but neither had either of their parents been, or their grandparents, initially. Mary may have known more of Patrick at the time - she protested the marriage from the start, but then I think she would have done that anyway, just from the way we, her parents and I, went about it." She paused and sighed heavily, her look remorseful. "She was right not to want to go through with it. I'm just glad she's out of it now."

Matthew blew out his cheeks and nodded slowly. This was surely a can of worms and he still wasn't sure why he should be the one to open it.

"I'll try. I'll help where I can, of course, but do you have any idea of the nature of Cousin Mary's trouble?"

Violet nodded once in return. It felt like her relentless gaze had not lifted from Matthew the entire time they had spoken. "There's some reason she won't trust Murray, and it's something to do with the legacy left to her in Patrick's will. I know there is some property, and that there is trouble with contracts. It may not be quite your…" she paused and Matthew could see she was trying very hard not to pull a sour face, "…specialty, but I think you could be the man to help." She studied him seriously for a moment. "You'll need to get Mary to talk to you. That won't be easy."

As if he didn't know that! To keep from being rude he only repeated, "I'll try."

* * *

><p>Try, Matthew certainly would, and the matter was turning over and over in his head- so much so that he needed a distraction. He couldn't face going home, a place where he had been holed up for over a month due to the rain, just yet. Wandering past the fair, he decided to stop in- embarrassing himself at the Coconut Saloon seemed as innocent a diversion as any.<p>

Innocent past-time it was, but it did not prove diverting as the person at the forefront of Matthew's mind appeared out of the corner of his eye. She was some way away still, so he covertly studied her as she drifted through the bustling fairground. In the centre of the good-natured mayhem, full of lights and music, a helter-skelter gaily painted with happy scenes and coloured bunting dripping from the trees, he realised there was something distinctly odd about her appearance. In her weeds she naturally stood in contrast to the gaiety, but there was something about her appearance that evening that nagged at him and he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Instead, seeing her now after a break of some weeks he was mentally telling himself not to be overly affected by her presence- Lord, but she was stunning. Probably the most effortlessly beautiful woman he had ever seen. He had recognised her from a distance easily enough- there had been several months of uneasy interaction with Cousin Mary by now, save Christmas. He and his mother had not spent this first Christmas at Downton. Of course they had been asked to join the family festivities, but having been so caught up in the move and then coming to terms with learning about the estate, they had yet to make a trip back to see their friends and family in Manchester. The festive season had offered the perfect excuse, and Matthew time off work, to do so.

Matthew had also not wanted to push Cousin Mary. Since that December morning when she had admitted to him that her relationship with her husband was not what he had expected their rapport had improved to what may now have been called a tentative truce. There was distinctly less bite to her tone when she conversed with him, and occasionally she even initiated their interactions. It was clear that she was still wary of him at times, and there had been no repeat of her imparting confidences but now, past Easter, when weather permitted, they had managed several interactions a week where cordiality, and occasionally good humour, was possible between them.

Before she noticed him and his inaction at his chosen game he turned away, still tracking her progress in his peripheral vision. He thought that when she recognised him she would turn and take another path but instead she drew closer and then, in short order, was at the point at which he needed to acknowledge her. They exchanged small smiles in greeting.

He gestured to the booth he stood in front of. "Thought I'd have a go before I went home. How about you?" He paid the stall holder for both of them without waiting for her answer.

If she was surprised by his offer, it was only momentarily and she was game. _After all_, Mary though, _I'm allowed a little fun, now_. "Thank you."

They both took aim, and both missed. Matthew, his mind still occupied by thoughts of her- her grandmother's puzzling request and her strange appearance - mentally chastised himself for letting Cousin Mary distract him so thoroughly. If she was going to be this bad for his concentration he hoped she never attended the village cricket matches.

Realising he was off his game anyway, he cocked his arm for another throw away shot as he turned his mind to other matters. "Do you know if your father's doing anything this evening?"

Mary gave him a wry look. "He's not coming to the fair."

"Seriously."

Slightly taken aback by his tone, she raised an eyebrow. They were at a fair, after all- were jocularity and fun not the name of the game? Apparently not for Cousin Matthew. "Well, having dinner with his family."

"Can I look in afterwards?" As neither of them was paying much attention to the game now, Matthew was somewhat relieved that his poor performance was likely to go unnoticed, or at least unremarked upon. Mary appeared to be as bad a shot as he was proving to be, anyway.

"May I ask why?"

"Some estate matters, but…" he looked at her for a moment, and she could see he was debating something with himself before he turned back to throw again. "I was rather hoping to speak to you as well."

"For the estate matter?" Her interest was clearly piqued at the prospect, and it was possibly the most animated Matthew had ever seen her. It was then he realised he _should_ have been asking her about estate matters. All these months when he'd been trying to get her on side, striving for an opportunity to converse with her, and he'd had the perfect excuse all along. The estate was something she was interested in and something that made her happy- indeed it was clear she was passionate about it.

He _would_ ask her about Downton, he decided, just as soon as they had other matters out of the way. "Actually your grandmother paid me a visit this afternoon and well…" he judged her response and seeing her look faintly panicked, he back-peddled, not wanting to force his help on her or any confidences she was not happy to give it. "…never mind, but I would like to see him."

"Granny came to see you? Did she relate anything of import? Anything that would greatly matter?"

He gave her a long look and moved towards his bicycle. Mary, intrigued by his lack of an answer, and his assessing look, followed. It was clear that he was uncomfortable with whatever he and her grandmother had spoken about so she decided to make it somewhat easier on both of them by engaging in some small talk- something that they had never done before really, not even since her thoughts, and behaviour, towards him had thawed. "So are you enjoying your new life?"

"Yes, I think so. I know my work seems very trivial to you." _No matter how much you may need me_, he thought.

"Not necessarily. Sometimes I rather envy you, having somewhere to go every morning."

Matthew scoffed gently. "I thought that made me very middle-class."

Mary rolled her eyes in reply, chiding gently. "You should learn to forget what I say. I know I do." They didn't really know each other well enough to truly jest about each other's foibles, but these tentative steps were nice, and it felt good to be joking light-heartedly with someone again.

Matthew smiled, relieved by the jovial turn the conversation had taken, but steered it back towards the matter at hand, knowing that he would have to broach much more than the superficial if he was going to get her to open up to him as her grandmother had suggested he should. "But I should ask you the same. Both our lives have undergone a great change lately, so what about you? Is your life proving satisfactory?"

It took a moment for her to respond but when she did her words were heavy with meaning. "Actually, in some ways I'm certainly better off."

They shared a long look at this; Matthew desperate to know more about her marriage, and Mary seemingly daring him to ask. Deciding this was not the time, Matthew broke their gaze and, with a rueful smile, Mary continued;

"But in others I have regressed to where I was three years ago- choosing clothes and paying calls, working for charity and doing the season." She huffed in frustration at the thought, "although half of those things I won't be doing for another year. First we're stuck in a waiting room until we marry, and then we're our husband's property. No one ever really prepares you for anything else and yet when it happens all they offer you is useless platitudes. Your life is thrown into confusion, shaken at its very foundation, and all in aid of a man who…well the less said about that the better."

Matthew hesitated momentarily, weighting up the opening she had intentionally given him. Ultimately, it was an opportunity that might never be repeated in such a friendly, informal setting and he saw that he had to take it.

"Actually, Cousin Mary, your grandmother thinks I should hear more about your situation, if you feel up to it. She seems to think there might be something I could do… to help you…. as a solicitor, with any _legal_ troubles you might be having in the aftermath of your marriage."

Mary's eyes widened in incredulity- _this_ was her grandmother's solution to her problems? This was _just the man to _help her? "Granny thinks _you_ can help me does she? And did she tell you what I need help with?"

"She didn't, she left that to you, but I see now I've made you angry."

Mary closed her eyes and shook her head quickly. "My life…my situation makes me angry. Not you."

Despite her words, her tone was terse as she contemplated exactly what her grandmother could have said to him. In a way Granny was right- she wanted someone to believe in, someone she could trust - ultimately someone she could share her burden with and Matthew, looking at her with such genuine sympathy and willingness to understand, might be just the man. She saw again the good man she had seen after Pamuk's death. It had been in him all along, and now that she recognised it- perhaps he was the right person for her to confide in?

While Mary was not completely opposed to the idea, she was always leery of laying out her personal history in front of anyone, particularly the family. She did not appreciate the way her grandmother had backed her into a corner _again_. Once again making her dependent on a man- making her vulnerable to him if she told him everything he would need to know to help her. That familiar feeling of external control made her cautiously defensive.

"I really would like to help you, and your grandmother seems to think I can…" Mary was eyeing him wryly. Matthew took her look and hesitation as disbelief in his abilities. He stopped walking and threw his hands up and began gesticulating in agitated exasperation. "…but you have to give me a chance! For starters, you have to acknowledge that my middle class beginnings can be useful for something! And while you're at it, you could try and sympathise with my position – you are not the only one whose life has been turned upside down recently- whose plans have been forever changed by circumstance!"

For Mary, his attack, based on misunderstanding and the fact that they didn't know each other well enough yet, came out of nowhere. She was left her on the back foot and some of their old heat flared between them.

"Oh yes, it must have been so difficult for you to be raised up beyond your wildest expectations, having done absolutely nothing to deserve it!" By now their voices had raised, more in passion than anger, but they were far enough from the fair, and its muffling music, to come to anyone's attention.

In her experience men were changeable, and while she saw his inherent goodness, he would surely now, and in the future, be tested by the same feelings of entitlement that had led Patrick astray. Maybe she _should_ open up to him and let him see where it could all go wrong if he let it. Let him learn from Patrick's folly and complacency.

Almost immediately and unknowingly, he put those fears to rest for her. "I've done nothing to deserve your censure either- I didn't want this! I was working my way up to being a named partner at my firm in Manchester. In a few years I would have contemplated a move to London to make my name- perhaps in the judiciary, or maybe politics. _That_ is the life I wanted. It still is, really. Not all of us want to spend our lives in idleness."

"Well I didn't either- I wanted to work for this estate and the people on it."

That took some of the wind out of his sails, and his shoulders slumped heavily. His tone, when he spoke again, was remorseful. "I know, and you have, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I argued with you, but I want you to know that not everything is rosy in my garden, either."

After a moment Mary nodded. Actually, she had never contemplated the idea that he might have had plans for his life before becoming the heir. Oh, he had mentioned trying to give up the legacy but not that he had had somewhere else, _someone_ else, to be. That she was not the only one with disappointed hopes continued her softening outlook towards him and there was a new air of understanding between them as they continued on the path together.

More sedate now, he held out an olive branch to her. "Perhaps you'd also like to be there for my talk with your father?"

She eyed him sceptically again, trying to judge if he really was interested in her input or if he was trying to placate her. She could see only earnestness in his expression. "After dinner then?" she asked tentatively.

"After dinner," he smiled graciously. "Good day, Cousin Mary."

"Just…Mary."

"Mary, then. Good day." He smiled wider and she nodded and looked away, not wanting to be more affected by him than she already was. She was not accustomed to the idea of having someone on her side, someone that was willing to try and understand her and break through the defences she put up. Sybil, her only other real confidant, was her little sister and needed too much to be protected to hear the whole truth. This new arrangement would take some getting used to.

* * *

><p><em>I'm sorry, this one has ended up being a bit of a filler chapter. I know not a huge amount happened but it's setting the scene, and quite the scene I hope it proves to be. <em>

_I hope you enjoyed it anyway- please let me know what you thought by pressing the pretty blue button. Thank you to everyone who reviewed last time- your overwhelmingly positive comments on the Pamuk events meant the world to me :D _


	10. Chapter 10

_This is a massively long chapter- by far the longest I've posted, so you'll have to forgive me a bit of a longer AN…_

_The first point is just a bit of information in case anyone is interested- a couple of months ago AriadneO (I miss you!) and I were discussing casting for Patrick in this fic, and I settled on the British actor Paul Nicholls. Pictures of him in a WWI uniform for some drama or other I have never seen also started the old gears working for another story… _

_I'd like to thank EOlivet for talking over a point in this chapter with me, and to everyone who read and reviewed and alerted the last chapter. I got a bit mixed up with review replies last time- at least one person got two (sorry!) but I hope I didn't miss anyone out. _

_This may sound a bit strange, but if it's not your cup of tea feel free to skip or ignore the last section. No, I didn't really mean it to go anywhere significant but I did *really* want to rewrite the two 'Matthew, Matthew, Matthew' scenes and couldn't figure out another way to do it with my darlings on good terms. The section is either genius or madness, very probably the latter, but it was kind of fun to write and it doesn't have a huge impact on the rest of the story if you hate it. Please keep in mind this is my first fic and I'm just playing :D_

_Did anyone get why Matthew thought Mary looked so different, and what Anna and Violet were so pleased to see about her appearance, in the last chapter?..._

* * *

><p>It was chance that Mary and Robert descended the stairs for dinner at the same time, but not that the former remembered to warn her father than he would later have a visitor - there had been little else on her mind since they had parted that afternoon.<p>

"I saw Cousin Matthew in the village. He wanted to call on you after dinner. Apparently he wants to discuss '_estate matters_.'"

Robert looked at Mary curiously, trying, and failing, to read anything behind her serene tone. "And what did you tell him? I hope you made him feel he'd be welcome." Although Lord Grantham had seen the thaw in the ice between his eldest daughter and his heir, he was still wary of Mary's contrary nature.

"Yes Papa," she answered, drawling the words slightly like the sulking adolescent she no longer was, even as she admitted to herself that her father had cause for concern given how quickly her discussion with Matthew had led to a misunderstanding and argument that very afternoon. On the other hand, she recalled with pleasure the end of their conversation, and the restoration of their good terms, brightening considerably as she related the part of the discussion that cemented the current peace between them to her father; "In fact, he asked me if I wanted to join you."

Robert looked at her, somewhat surprised by her enthusiasm. "And do you?"

"Naturally I do." Mary never failed to feel a pang of hurt at her father's astonishment that she wanted to be involved in Downton. Had she _still_ not made it clear to him? Were her efforts _still_ unnoticed? Why did it take Patrick and Matthew, the voices of _men_, to get through to him and see what progress could be made. Patrick was a parrot, putting forward her concepts verbatim. From what she had seen of Matthew's work, he was an amplified echo of her own voice- calling for the continuation or development into the next phase of works. The fact that either was credited while she was dismissed added to the distance she often felt between herself and her parents.

"Well, it has been a while since you last took an interest- I thought perhaps you'd given it up."

"I never stopped taking an interest, Papa. This is still my home and I will always care for its upkeep and the welfare of those on the estate, no matter who will inherit. If you give me a sounding board, I'll take it."

Mary had checked her impertinence, knowing it would only annoy her father to the point that he would dismiss her even more readily. What she had really wanted to say rang loudly in her head; _'My cause had a new champion- one that was seemingly more likely to be heard than I._'

Robert nodded, somewhat dispassionate in the face of his daughter's passion. Although he loved all of his girls very much, he was a firm believer in being the head of his household. As such, he had only ever half-heartedly encouraged Mary's involvement when she was, in his eyes, prompting Patrick to take on his role as heir and eventual master. That role- to spend days working to manage the estate, cope with the finances, take care of all necessary upkeep and, above all, provide a supportive and authoritative figure for the family to look up to- belonged to the man of the house, in this case, the Earl.

What Robert had failed to realise was that, in the ever-changing world he lived in, this mentality meant his daughters increasingly did not look to him for much at all.

"Well when he arrives, do your best to keep the rest of the family in the drawing room, especially your grandmother. Matthew has some rather interesting, and modern, ideas and I don't need to hear her opinion on them- I can already guess what it is." He rolled his eyes.

Mary smiled, but internally felt another pang- that her Papa could see Matthew's modern ideas as interesting, when hers were meddlesome and yet largely the same- twisted in her gut. Instead of reacting to the hurt she covered in the best way she knew how- her pointed wit. With an arch look she spoke with genuinely fond exasperation at the idea that anyone could coral her grandmother. "Well, I'd like to see you try."

* * *

><p>Matthew entered as surreptitiously as he could. Coming up after a family dinner was very bad form, especially as he and his mother had initially been invited to dine today but had declined on the grounds that his mother had demanded to join rounds with Doctor Clarkson early tomorrow morning at the hospital. Why they needed to go 'round' was beyond Matthew- they could see and speak to all, yes <em>all<em> four, of the patients from the door, the hospital was so small, but if it made her happy...

How odd it was to be sneaking into a place where he knew if he'd been up in time for dinner he would have found a ready welcome! He had tried to time his arrival for the very end of dinner, so that Carson would still be busy. If the butler was not distracted, Matthew had no hope of getting any way into the house without detection and, he had decided long ago that, aside from Cousin Violet, Carson was the person who most liked things to be done _properly_ and was therefore most likely to be upset by his arrival.

Skulking around the entranceway he paused at the internal partition, hearing the door to the dining room open. It appeared he had timed his entrance perfectly as the ladies, led by the footman William and the current Countess of Grantham, made their way to the dining room.

"…but why, Sybil? You're not a doctor's daughter…"

The doctor's _son_ was amused by the topic of conversation, Sybil attending a 'real school', as the ladies processed but his thoughts, his very _brain_, stopped as Cousin Mary…Mary… passed him. She wasn't in black! Well, she was. Of course she was wearing black, but beneath the dark and intricate lace of her dress was an underdress of palest lilac that shone almost silver, shimmering as she walked past him. His eyes swept her form from head to toe and back again- the transformation was amazing! Without the covering black layers and heavy crepe her form was slight but strong looking and her skin, which could on occasion look sallow at first glance, now radiated the luminosity that it sometimes required a second glance to fully appreciate.

Matthew realised that this was what had struck him about her appearance at the fair earlier as well. Not able to discern it then, when the majority of her day dress had still been black, he now realised that it had been embellished with bands and panels of a bluish-charcoal grey. It was now the 29th of May and Mary was in half mourning, her husband having been dead for over a year. With the near torrential rain and boggy conditions keeping he and his mother at home recently, he had not seen that change until now.

It was as if the force of his admiring gaze compelled her to look around as she subtly fell behind Edith, glancing over her shoulder and spotting him, before turning fully. She signalled him to wait and he acknowledged her, an expression between a smile and a grimace of embarrassment at almost being caught marvelling at the change in her. He had never been immune to her beauty, not from their first 'meeting', but the striking figure she cut as she strode across the hallway almost made him breathless.

She leaned through the door and greeted him before following the rest of the party to make her excuses for the evening. Having bid the females of her family good night, she returned to Matthew's side and directed him to the library where together they waited for her father.

* * *

><p>As Matthew suspected, Carson was rather put out to have a visitor so late in the evening. He was even more aggrieved that, as far as he was concerned their visitor was unannounced and unexpected, while Lady Mary and his Lordship <em>had<em> anticipated Mr Crawley's arrival and he'd not been told! Leaving brandy for the gentlemen and sherry for Lady Mary he retired from the room, regretting that he had ever let Thomas and William both go to the fair. The very idea of Lord Grantham's that he should join them was a further blow to his dignity!

The seated occupants of the library turned to the matter at hand - with all of the recent rain they'd had, a number of the southerly, low-lying fields had become badly flooded. This affected not only tenant farms but also a small patch of the estate park itself. While it may have been a blessing in disguise that this was the first dinner the dowager Lady Grantham had been able to attend for a month due to the flooding, it wasn't good for the estate to have so much land out of commission particularly as, if the rain continued and they had a wet summer, all they'd be able to use that land for was growing rice!

* * *

><p>An hour later and they had come to a number of reasonable conclusions and potential strategies for dealing with the problem, and each leaned back from the list being discussed with mutual satisfaction.<p>

"Well, that's a plan then. I'll see about scheduling the work next week." Robert stood up and shook hands with a rising Matthew, very glad of his input. As he stepped back, he turned to Mary and saw that she was settling back into her chair. "Mary, are you sure you wouldn't rather come up and see your grandmother off with me? You could re-join the ladies before bed."

"No, I've already made my excuse of an early night and they'll expect me to have gone up by now. I'll go when the coast is clear. You know what Granny would say if she knew I was in here with you, talking estate matters."

Matthew looked between them, confused, so Mary took pity on him. "Granny would think it very unladylike. '_Ladies work for the benefit of the estate, not on the estate itself_.'"

He grinned at her impression of the older woman, particularly the displeased frown and exaggerated purse of her lips as she finished. "Well, isn't that what we've been doing? It's not like we're sending you out to dig the drainage trench or pipe way yourself. And it will benefit the estate to collect the water for the animals, rather than pumping it off, an idea that was entirely yours."

Mary smiled back, glad of his recognition of her input and support, but rolled her eyes nonetheless. "Try telling her that."

"I'm sure I could come up with an argument good enough to satisfy Cousin Violet- I am a solicitor, after all."

The Dowager Countess in question stood by the door, watching the conversation. While it cheered Violet to watch Mary and Matthew banter with the spite now so obviously missing, she really thought it best to put an end to such presumptions. "Really, Cousin Matthew? And what about your chosen profession makes you think you'd be any match for me?"

Mary jumped up from her place on the sofa as all the occupants of the room looked around at the door in horror of having been caught in cahoots.

The Countess scowled at Mary as she came further into the room. "It is unladylike, my dear, but then so are screaming tantrums and riding astride, and I got used to you doing both of those when you were younger. I'm sure I can see my way to forgiving you for being useful." She patted her hand, watching carefully as Mary turned away, blushing, from Cousin Matthew who tried to catch her eye. He was not very successfully holding in his laughter at the idea of an infant Mary, dressed in the finest children's clothing and hair ribbons the Earl of Grantham could provide, stamping her tiny foot and wailing out her childhood frustrations, but Mary resolutely kept her eyes away from meeting his teasing ones.

Violet studied them for a few long seconds before turning to her son, whom she noted was doing the same. "Robert, walk me out." She turned again to the young people in the room and bid each a goodnight before walking with the Earl in silence until they left the confines of the house.

Striding towards the car, Violet finally gave voice to her observations. "What I don't understand in all of this is how we could have possibly been so wrong."

Robert looked completely baffled. "What are you speaking of, Mama?" Now half way into the car, Violet turned almost violently which caused her to jerk back into the seat, staring at her son in incredulous amazement. She really had thought that he had caught on to what she was witnessing in the library, and the growing suspicion in her mind. Clearly that was not the case, and her boy was as oblivious as ever. Just like his father. She tutted and shook her head, dismissing him for the evening as she settled herself more comfortably for the drive home. "Thank you, Branson."

Watching the retreating car, Robert chuckled faintly to himself. "Oh Mama! You and Cora spoke as if we had any choice in it." He shook his head as he moved back to where Carson was standing. "I'm worn out. Tell Lady Mary and Mr Crawley I've gone to bed."

"Shall I tell them _now_, my lord?"

Robert looked up in surprise at his straight-faced butler. It shouldn't have surprised him really; Carson was nothing if not perceptive, particularly when it came to Mary. "No. Wait until they ring." The two of them had enough obstacles in their path if they were going to navigate the course in front of them. The last thing they needed was interruption when they finally seemed to be on the right path.

* * *

><p>In the library, Matthew certainly had no plans to for ringing for anyone else any time soon - he was relishing the opportunity to speak to Mary. Having retaken their seats from the meeting with her father, they were now surprised to find themselves next to each other. Their focus had previously been divided so that it had also been on the other side of the room where Lord Grantham had sat. Now, on turning to speak more easily to each other, they found themselves quite close together.<p>

They had already conversed extensively this evening in talks with her father and there was a distinct lack of spite in the air- a situation that might actually be conducive to getting her to open up, especially if he was going to help her as her grandmother had asked.

"I am grateful that you are still willing to give me your advice on estate matters even thought this whole thing must be impossible for you. You must resent me so bitterly, but you give such good advice." He smiled at her.

Rolling her eyes at what she saw as his attempts to placate her, she snapped; "If you can tell the difference between good and bad advice, then you don't need advice."

Instantly, she regretted her tone knowing he'd done little to deserve her attitude and she offered him a wan smile in apology, trying to restore the peaceful atmosphere that they had managed to preserve that evening. "I was born here, Matthew, and I had hoped to die on the estate. It means everything to me, and if people I love are going to depend on it still…"

"Well naturally you will all depend on this land for many years to come I hope. And even after your father…well." He trailed off, realising where he was headed, and tried another track. "I'm sorry that without Patrick you feel less at home here but there will always be a place for you. It can always be your home. For your mother and sisters, as well, while I have any say in the matter."

"Well Patrick left me some money and I could likely be independent with some economisation, but it's not enough to support anyone else. Still, that's not exactly what I meant by people I love depending on Downton… but then I suppose if everything went according to _plan_ my sisters and mother would be guaranteed to be looked after anyway." She watched Matthew carefully to see if he had any notable reaction.

"I'm sorry Mary but I don't have the faintest idea what you are talking about. What plan?"

Mary continued to study him seriously for a moment. "Well, the _most_ current plan is to send Edith off to one of Old Lady McNair's house parties, and I'm sure they're fishing to see who else they can get to host her. Mama might even send her to the family in New York." She paused to see if she could read anything from him in reaction to the fact that Edith might be going away. Nothing, so she continued; "that is what's done, you know? Ladies with too many Seasons under their belts and too few prospects, like Edith, are sent off to country piles or wealthy relatives where there may be eligible men who spend their days killing things and their evenings drinking themselves stupid and flirting with anything in a dress."

Matthew was totally thrown by the seeming non-sequester. Hadn't they been talking about keeping her family secure at Downton? Of course if any of the girls married they would go elsewhere, he didn't mean he would keep them locked up, but that they would have a place should they need it. "Poor Edith. Does she like that sort of thing?" He asked for the sake of seeming interested in her choice of topic although he had no idea where this was going.

The inquiry seemed innocent enough- his face was entirely placid, but Mary still wondered if there wasn't a hint of interest behind it. "It just means you'll have to move fast if you want to save her from it. Mama thought it would be all settled by now you see, but Granny seems to have quite given up the idea, so they're moving forward. Just in case."

"In case of what? I really have no idea what we speaking of! Please enlighten me, Mary."

"Well, you and Edith of course. She and Mama have big plans for you." She saw the dawning realisation spread over his face to the point where he was clearly thunderstruck. In the short time they had known each other it had become one of her favourite looks on him - truly comical - and she had seen it often enough now to know that it was completely genuine.

Indeed, Matthew was well and truly taken aback. Was this really what they had been planning? Why? What on earth had put the idea of him and Edith in their minds? He had always been a little wary of Edith's apparent interest but she had done nothing to truly alarm him and so he'd had no idea that this was in the works.

"Then I'm afraid they are both in for equally big disappointments! Is that really what they were planning? My God!" He left the sofa next to her and paced the room slightly in agitation. "Edith has been very generous, given the circumstances…"

"It's easy to be generous when you have nothing to lose and everything to gain." She tried to take the edge of bitterness away with a wide, but tight, smile.

Slowly Matthew processed that, of course, it didn't really matter which of the girls it was. It could equally have been Sybil who was pushed towards him if she'd been a little older. He had suspected something like this might come up in the beginning, but now? When he was beginning to feel that he finally might have a place here? What really mattered was that Downton remained in the family. Not just the Crawley family, but under the direction of the current inhabitants. Of course they were just protecting themselves and all that they had built, but to scheme for him when all he had ever tried to do was help at the expense of his own life plans…

"You'll have to be careful if you do any more church visiting with her."

"Quite right. Mother's trying to set something up. I may have to be busy that weekend." He frowned very seriously for a moment, recounting the last trip- how cheerful Edith had tried to be about the architecture that had clearly bored her. Had there been no sincerity in her offer to help and show him around at all? Had it all been a ploy to trap him and the family money?

"Busy with the cottages, perhaps." Mary gave him a genuine smile, full of the relief she felt at having exposed Edith's motives and her parents' folly. If it saved Edith from a marriage that was based on anything other than love and respect then it was worth the short-term heartache that was bound to occur when Matthew inevitably attempted to extract himself.

"That's an idea!" Matthew mentally shook off his shock, along with his feelings of betrayal. Seizing on the change of subject, Matthew decided to pursue a less unsettling topic and come to terms, as well as a way to deal with the unfounded expectation, later.

"Mary, I really do want to move forward with the improvements. I think it's important and I hope the cottages are something you'll be willing to pursue…with me? When I first arrived here your father told me how involved you were, how much you tried to help Patrick…"

"I certainly wasn't trying to _help_ Patrick, as such- I was using him to push through my own agenda the only way that Papa would accept it. Patrick was…a means to an end." She shrugged, completely unconcerned when speaking in this way of the dead husband she was still in mourning for. Matthew was not going to miss the opportunity to understand at least this bit of the puzzle.

"You said something recently that baffled me- you suggested, at least to my mind, that you are a relieved widow, rather than a bereaved one?"

Mary looked at him, full and frank, but gave away nothing verbally. Surely she had already said enough for him to get the idea if he was even willing to broach the question. Matthew, correctly, took her silence as confirmation, and retook his seat beside her.

"Your parents suggest nothing of that, although there is clearly some unease in your sisters and grandmother. Can't you tell me why you feel that way? I know losing him left you without what you were expecting, but really, that wasn't Patrick's fault for dying. "

She laughed bitterly. "Is that what you think of me, Matthew? That I would be as mercenary as to set against my husband only because I didn't get what I wanted when he died?"

"Well no, I would hope not, but that _is_ why you're set against me, isn't it? I'm keeping you from what you wanted?"

"It's true, I did… I do resent you for that, but can't you see it's more than just me wanting Downton? Wanting nothing more than to be queen of the county? It's _owed_ to me Matthew. It's not _you_ I resent, as much as what you stand for. I'm the first born. I married the heir… and I deserve what I was promised for what I went through with Patrick."

"What did you go through? I don't understand, was he violent? Unkind to you?" He waved a hand in Mary's general direction, indicating her manner of dress. "You have apparently entered a full two years of mourning, a period society no longer dictates you need to strictly follow, yet you tell me your marriage was bad in some way. Help me to understand, Mary, please?"

"Do you really think, after what I've told you, that I'm in mourning for my husband? I am in mourning for myself, for the girl I once was who believed in love, and the institution of marriage… and the benevolence of her parents!"

Where Mary had been stoic to this point, she now felt her eyes filling with tears. "Have you heard other people talk about Patrick?" She did not wait for his answer before continuing. "The male servants don't have much to say about him at all, really, he kept his own man with him and didn't create extra work for them. The female servants, they'll tell you they liked Mr Patrick. He was kind, always smiling, always with a nice word or a bonbon to share. Here at Downton, where he was careful not to make too many waves, that was the extent of it."

Mary got up from the sofa and moved towards the fire, hugging herself as if she were cold, but the room was a pleasant temperature and Matthew knew that it was just unpleasant recollections that were chilling her. "Papa and Mama will of course tell you that he was a nice boy. Once upon a time, before her spies filled her in on some details, Granny would have too, because they were all fond so of him. They knew nothing of his life in town because, other than the season, the family rarely goes. I'm not sure if my parents _never_ heard the gossip, or just dismissed it. Granny knew a little, enough to understand that I was rightly unhappy, and that there were rumours, but not to fully understand the extent of it I don't think. She wouldn't have thought him such as nice boy if she had. Maybe they didn't care- after all; it's a young man's prerogative. Maybe they thought he would settle down eventually- and of course I'd welcome him with open arms when the time came. Perhaps we'd fall in love, like Mama and Papa did. They never saw anything else in him other than a good match for their daughter and a way to keep their legacy going. He was a bit of a fop, but the edges would be smoothed off eventually."

Mary stood at the fire, gazing into the flames. She was talking, but Matthew was not completely sure she was talking to him anymore- she seemed very far away and he wasn't sure if she even knew he was still in the room.

"And then there is Edith, of course. Poor deluded Edith. She thought she was in love with him, you know? And of course, he had to have been hopelessly in love with her, too. Star-crossed, they were, and I was the evil one that prevented them from being together because I had my heart set on getting Downton for myself." Mary shook her head, a look of complete incredulous, if bitter, humour across her face.

"Patrick knew, of course. He knew all about her little crush. Oh, how he laughed at her. Mocked her mercilessly behind her back even though she was only a teenager and it's natural to have crushes at that age. Still, he did nothing to dissuade her- that would have spoilt his fun. Little gifts, pecks on the cheek, quiet conversations in the corner of the room- always setting her up and then watching her fall when the family would push us back together again- making me out to be the horrid sister who wanted it all for herself, disappointing Edith's hopes each and every time.

"I _had_ to take him. Mama and Papa were so insistent that there was no other choice for me and in a way Edith was right, I did want Downton because I deserved something in all of this, didn't I?" Again, she did not wait for an answer. It was as if Matthew wasn't there at all as she continued to speak to the flames in the fireplace before her.

"He wouldn't have taken Edith, and I thank God that Sybil was too young for him to even consider. Even he wouldn't go looking in the nursery. So I married him, already knowing that I was ambivalent towards him, but not a fraction of the things that would make me truly dislike him. If he had been left to his own devices to choose a bride, and a countess for Downton, I dread to think what would have happened to this estate in the years to come."

She was almost in a trance, and Matthew did not want to break her from that- not when she was clearly so fragile, and not when she was finally getting this out. It was clear to him that this was a catharsis for her- she had obviously never spoken about this before, at least, not since Patrick's death. He wondered if they had ever argued, or if Mary had just accepted the state of her marriage, on the surface at least, while she was in it.

He spoke very gently to her. "What did he do Mary? Why did you dislike Patrick so much?"

It took a moment before she began talking again. "'_Keep only unto each other'_. That's what we said. That's what you promise in a marriage vow, isn't it. To be faithful? I don't think Patrick had kept faith with anything or anybody in the whole of his life, certainly not to me or our arrangement. There were so many others. So many. We'd had our wedding night and a few days away at the coast after that before Patrick wanted to get back to the city. On business, he said. It had been fine- there was no love, but he didn't hurt me unnecessarily and I was resigned to be a society wife by then.

"We got back to London and he left me alone almost immediately, so I began to help my new maid unpack. Patrick had hired her, hired all of them. They were…very discrete and loyal, he paid them enough for that, and they all knew their master's ways and habits so he had no worries there. They were so kind to poor, deluded Lady Mary; '_he'll be home soon, my Lady,_' and '_he works very hard to provide for you, m'lady, that's why he keeps the hours he does_'.

"It lasted about a week before I found the box. I suppose trunk is more accurate. Unpacking with the maid, I took some things to the upper rooms to go into mothballs because she was busy pressing the clothes that were to go straight into the wardrobe. There was a small trunk up there that I thought had come with my things and been put in the wrong place so I opened it. There were so many photographs. I've never seen so many in one place- it's not as if they're cheap. Actresses, singers, musicians…none of them so very prominent, Patrick couldn't afford that, but I knew some of the faces. There were others in the pictures, beautiful women all of them, but they were not so finely turned out. It was clear what their trade was- in some of them it was blatantly displayed. There were other things- other tokens, mementos. So many. And when I asked Patrick about them, he just laughed. Said if I knew what he was about already then he had no reason to try and hide, not that he'd made a very good job of it.

"Everyone else knew, apparently. All of our friends- anyone we associated with that spent a deal of time in London, were aware of his reputation. I was to play the good wife- enjoy town, call on friends and neighbours, and do what society women do, while he got on with his _business_ and _pursuits_. I was to ignore the gossip, ignore that I was a laughing stock, and keep his secrets so that I didn't bring his shame on myself."

"Oh Mary."

Her name seemed to snap her out of her recollections and she turned towards him with wild eyes, finally realising that someone, that _he_, was in the room. "Oh god!" She burst into tears and turned to leave, but Matthew sprang up from the sofa where he had been sitting, very still so as not to spook her, and pulled her into his arms - holding her, rocking her, and crooning to her as she shuddered and gasped for breath.

They stayed like that for a long time, her sobs turning to heavy tear laden sighs, until finally she lifted her head a pulled back from him slightly. He let her move from where her head had been lent against his chest, but not from the reach of his arms, taking a hold of her shoulders as he peered at her earnestly.

He spoke to her kindly, but was firm and very serious. "Your grandmother said that you might need some help. Some contracts that Patrick had put in place on properties that you need breaking?"

She nodded and wiped at her eyes, squaring her shoulders under his touch. This was exactly what she needed, something practical, and his forthright manner made it easier to cope with all that she had just unwittingly disclosed, and all that she was about to.

"Yes. Part of my inheritance, part of what he left me, are two properties in London. There are tenants in them at the moment that I want nothing more to do with and I don't know how to get rid of them. They hold the life-long leases, and Murray says it can't be broken."

"Who are these people? What were they to Patrick that you want to get rid of them so badly?" He could guess, but he wanted to force a full and frank disclosure from her. It was hard, and she had already given up so much, but this was a new phase of their relationship and if he could force this admission from her, this level of honesty, then they could face anything together.

"In one there is at least one woman and maybe a child or children. I've not been able to fully establish who lives there, who visits, and who uses it as a…place of business."

Matthew sighed and squeezed her shoulders. Mary took a deep breath and prepared herself for what she was about to admit next.

"In the other there is a young man. What I hadn't realised until he died, Matthew," she took another deep breath, shuddering slightly still, "is that my husband was a troubled soul."

Matthew closed his eyes and pulled her back to him, resting his chin on her hair. This was even worse than he'd expected and his heart broke for her; this captivating woman who carried so much pain.

"The family thought they knew him- we'd grown up with him- and yet he lived a whole separate life of dissipation. When we lived together I wanted to know nothing about his lifestyle- it helped me keep face with the people who knew- but in the end I learned far too much of it when it all landed in my lap. He was certainly more circumspect about _that_ aspect of his life, for obvious reasons, but people still knew. I knew I was a laughing stock, but not the extent of how blind and stupid I was."

She shook her head and seemed to pull herself together, again focusing on the practical; "Patrick set up these houses, and visited them often, but there were others who went there as well. Friends of ours that 'invested' in the properties and their up-keep. Other acquaintances were certainly involved and, perhaps…" she didn't quite know how to phrase it. "…passing trade? I don't know." She paused, trying to keep the tears at bay once again. "Please Matthew, please help me. I know I have been horrible to you in the past but…"

He shushed her again as he squeezed her shoulders gently. "I will help you."

She went on desperately, the relief of having said it; having told someone and extracted a promise of help was too much for her. "I just want them out. I want it stopped. Patrick has left me making money from these …_enterprises_, money that I never touch, that goes straight to charity, but still I can't deal with it anymore…Murray says he can't do anything, too many contracts tie it all up with other people, but you'll do something won't you Matthew? You'll help me?"

He pulled her back into his arms, horrified that this situation existed right under the nose of her family and had left her, one of the strongest, sharpest women he had ever met, begging him, a man who had injured her by circumstance, for the only help she could see out of her situation. "Of course I will. I will do everything, _anything_, to help you."

* * *

><p>They sat, side by side, at a respectable distance on the sofa next to the fire, tumblers of brandy in hand. It was quite now, the calm after the storm, and Mary felt lighter than she had in months, maybe years, she realised. It had been a year since Patrick died, and they had been married for two prior to that. She had had that bottled up for three years and now they sat in the aftermath of the popped cork.<p>

She had thought, months ago, that showing any weakness in front of Matthew would be impossible; she would have been failing somehow. Now she knew nothing could be further from the truth as, through confiding in him, she certainly more in control of her situation, just with the promise of his help and support behind her.

Matthew too felt her relief, and some of his own in finally knowing where he stood with her.

She took a final shuddering breath and stood, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes and cheeks. Summoning Carson with a tug of the bell pull, she turned back to Matthew who had moved to stand when she did, watching her movements carefully as if he was concerned she would shatter again.

She gave him an awkward smile, gesturing around her to indicate the futility of her situation, and her apparent impotence in dealing with it. "Well, there it is. I was the dutiful daughter, the dutiful wife and now I am the grieving widow. And despite all off it, everything I have put up with, I meant nothing in all of this."

"On the contrary, you mean a great deal. A very great deal. I'm only sorry that Patrick couldn't see it." There was a note in his voice that struck a chord with Mary- a caring, caressing note that she let wash over her for a moment. Again she could scarcely believe it- someone had heard her troubles and he wanted to help her!

The sound of the door opening and Carson's footsteps broke them from where they were gazing at each other. "You rang, my lady?"

"Yes, Carson. Mr Crawley was just leaving. Do you know where his lordship is?"

"Gone to bed, my lady. He felt tired after putting Lady Grantham into the car."

"I bet he did. Thank you, Carson." As Carson made his slight bow and retreated, Matthew marvelled at Mary's resilience. Her tone when hearing her father had no doubt gone to bed having done further battle with her grandmother was nothing short of amused, despite everything she had gone through this evening.

He moved closer to her again. "I'm sorry, but it will be Monday at the earliest before I can look into anything that will be a help."

"I'm sure there's nothing that you can do immediately but you mustn't let it trouble you." She took a deep breath and came towards him. "To be honest, I didn't feel I would be able to tell anyone in the family about the situation at all, and so just to have spoken to you about it is a huge weight off my chest. That you are actually in a position to help me is more than I could have ever hoped for."

"So my middle class background will come in use? It no longer troubles you?"

She gave him a wry smile in reply but there was real humour behind it which it pleased him no end to see. "In fact I find it is my consolation. Who knew a middle class cousin was exactly what I needed in my life?"

He took the tease a bit further; "You know it's a middle class custom to shake on such arrangements? I am going to work for you, after all."

She smiled widely and stepped even closer. Time seemed to slow as he reached forward and slipped his large hand into her out-stretched one. She could feel that his fingers were cool, despite the warmth of the fire that heated the library and the thickness of her gloves. The press and momentary tightening of his grip was comfortable, and it reminded her of being in his arms earlier in the evening- a sensation she had barely been aware of at the time as he held her through her sobbing, but now she could recall the press of his arms and the comfort of his body against hers.

She raised her eyes from where her silky black glove was firmly encased in his pale grip, to his face, and was captured, just as firmly, in the piercing blue of his gaze. For a stretch of time… minutes or only seconds?... they stared at each other before the moment became inexplicably uncomfortable and each looked away, breaking their hold on hands and eyes.

Matthew licked his lips in frustration and agitation although quite over what, he couldn't think. There was no further reason for him to stay. She was calm now and Carson was already making preparations for him to leave. He bade her a soft goodnight as he passed her and Mary turned her head to surreptitiously watch him go, a tremble finding its way up her spine as he closed the door behind him. It was a lingering reaction from spending the evening tears, or so she told herself.

* * *

><p>Carson had clearly picked up the heavy atmosphere of the library, and it seemed to follow him and Matthew as they walked the short distance to the front hall where the latter collected his hat and gloves. Despite it, and the rapid play of thoughts in his head, Matthew was determined to remember his manners as he took his leave, recollecting that he had already disturbed the old butler's evening substantially.<p>

"I hope I haven't kept you up too late. I'm afraid we've rather interfered with your dinner."

Unflappable to the last, Carson merely inclined his head, both in acknowledgement and dismissal. "It's been rather a chop and change evening downstairs."

"Lady Grantham got off alright?" Matthew enquired hopefully, knowing full well that in the coming days he would have to seek out Cousin Violet and give her, with as few details as possible, an update on his progress with Mary's concerns.

His inquiry received a raised eyebrow in return. "All right is an optimistic assessment, sir."

Matthew considered him for a moment, wondering if the stalwart butler, who clearly doted on Mary, had been as oblivious to her pain as her family had been. In a way, he hoped he had been, if only to spare the kindly man his worries for the daughter he had never had, but Matthew realised that was unlikely to have been the case. "It's very difficult, Carson. For her, for Lady Mary, for everyone, when someone you care about is in a situation that is not good for them."

Carson nodded once, a growing understanding forged between the two men. "It is, Mr Crawley, and I appreciate your saying so."

"I am going to try and help Lady Mary as much as I can. Did you know much about her situation with … Mr Crawley?" Matthew hated that they were known by the same moniker and Carson seemed to pick up on that.

"_Mr Patrick_ was a smooth customer. He and his man did not fit particularly well around here, but he was the future heir and Lady Mary's husband. I know no details of why she was unhappy, just that it broke my heart to see that she was."

Matthew gave the man a grim, closed lipped smile and briefly gripped his shoulder in an unusual gesture of solidarity as he passed on his way out.

* * *

><p>Mary felt that it had been a long day already, and it was only mid-morning by the time she joined her father for their walk across the grounds to where they would meet with Matthew to see the cottages. Being dressed by O'Brien was not the best start to Mary's day but, if Anna was unwell then of course she wanted her maid to stay in bed.<p>

Normally a stroll through the grounds was restorative for the young woman who loved her home so much, but after the drama of her confession to Matthew last night, the shallow sleep she had subsequently fallen into, and the prospect of seeing him again shortly, she was physically exhausted and emotionally drained. Her father's choice of conversation did not help matters.

"Carson says you were rather a long time with Matthew last night?"

Mary wished she could roll her eyes, but her father was watching her closely so she settled for a slight shrug of her shoulders. Carson was ever her fierce protector, and she was glad to have him on her side, but he was also her father's faithful employee. Now, of course, he had put her in a complicated position- she wasn't equal to telling her father what she had told Matthew, not yet, but at the same time she was not a liar.

"Yes, I suppose so. We found we had rather a lot to talk about, in the end. I'm glad to say that my situation appears to trouble Cousin Matthew very much." Employing a tactic that she had perfected over many years, she had answered as truthfully, and as vaguely, as possible, leaving it to her father to deduce what exactly it was she was referring to. "He at least seems to be willing to stick up for me."

"My darling daughter, as hard as it is for an English man to say, you must know I love you. I will do everything I can to stick up for you in any way you may need me to, but we have discussed this before and Downton must now go to Matthew- he will be the next custodian." Given that Mary had them purposefully talking at cross purposes, she only took pleasure in her father's assurances that he would stick up for her -on issues other than Downton's ownership. It suggested that, when the time came and she felt she could explain Patrick's poisonous legacy to him, he would support her.

Dragging her mind back to the present, she pursued the conversation her father thought they were engaged in. "So what am I supposed to do, live on here while Edith lords it over me as Matthew's wife?"

Robert raised his eyebrows at her, turning slightly as they walked to study her more closely. "Do you think that is likely? Edith and Matthew, I mean? I certainly can't see you staying here if that was the case!"

"No, in either case," she sighed heavily. "But what else am I to do- take my lot of Patrick's meagre portion and move back to a house I hate in London? Live with my aging mother or married sisters and take up full-time embroidery projects? Find another husband and get out of the way?"

"Would that be such a bad thing? You have shown that you are not…" he paused, coughed and coloured slightly. "…opposed to the _company_ of men."

Mary blushed and looked away too, embarrassed that her father would bring up such a topic, even in the vaguest of terms. "No, but…"

Robert broke in, not really wanting to let Mary finish whatever it was she was going to say in reply in case she pursued the topic he had alluded to in some way. "I would like that for you, you know? - A good man, a brave man. Someone that would make you happy."

"You mean someone unlike Patrick?" Mary raised her eyebrow, her face a picture of sardonic inquiry. It was as close as she ever touched upon the subject, but her father knew that Patrick wouldn't have been her choice of husband, or indeed, if he was truthful, his heir, even if he did not know the true details of her objections.

Robert nodded once, his face set into a tight grimace of reluctant acceptance as his eyes drifted over the land around them. "Perhaps."

She sighed again. "It would be another year before I could even think of going into company and even then I'm not getting any younger. If I did marry again…I'd really be saying goodbye to Downton." She stopped and faced the house, her eyes flittering over the beloved façade.

Robert stopped when she did and, after a moment of watching her carefully, stepped in front of her, blocking his daughters view of the house she loved so much and catching her attention with a very earnest look. "You could stay here if _you_ married Matthew."

Mary was completely taken aback and it took her a moment to answer him. "But Mama and Granny…and _Edith_," she breathed, sounding almost scandalised.

He reached up and cupped her cheek. "Oh my darling. That was never going to work out was it?"

"Well… _no_, but don't let them ever hear you say that!" Mary shook her head in astonished disbelief before pausing as a thought struck her. She dropped her gaze to the ground between them, her eyes filling with tears. "Another man I'm told to marry, father? My character is stronger now- I'm even more stubborn. I wish I wasn't but I am."

"I won't tell you to marry him. I won't be doing that again." Robert sounded very firm in his pronouncement and it caused Mary to meet his eyes once more, seeing that he looked honestly aggrieved. It was clear that he didn't just mean for her, but for Sybil and Edith as well. She smiled, tears still pooling in her eyes. "But would it be so bad? Could he not make you happy, my darling?"

Mary closed her eyes, still dumbfounded, searching for an answer to a question that seemed impossible, and yet somehow, so natural. She was about to speak, although she had no idea what she would say, when she felt her father press a kiss to her forehead and move away from her. When she opened her eyes again and turned to look for him he was someway in the distance, and two fast tears made tracks across her cheeks.

She would see the cottages another day. She was not up to it now and her father, having left her stunned and contemplative, had obviously seen that.

* * *

><p>Later that night, Mary lay awake for hours trying to get to sleep. Having slept so poorly the night before she was exhausted, but still thoughts of the last two days cycled through her brain in an endless rotation of past recollections, new information and half acknowledged truths.<p>

She heard the clock strike two, and then three, but the next morning could not recall hearing four despite the fact that when she got up to dress she didn't feel like she had slept at all. She knew she must have done so though, at least in patches, because she had dreamed;

* * *

><p><em>She was walking again in the grounds after her father had left her that morning, only the plain grey morning dress she had been wearing was instead a miss-matched blue top and purple skirt, colours…colours!... that she would never have chosen to put together herself. Her sleeping brain, in all its disjointed wonder, nevertheless rationalised it for her- of course, O'Brien had dressed her that morning, not Anna. The old bat probably did it out of spite – trying to make her look stupid in a disaster of an outfit, not to mention without her mourning clothes…<em>

…_but then why would she need mourning clothes when her husband was walking towards her, his usual malevolent smirk firmly in place as he assessed and then dismissed her. He scoffed and, with a toss of his head, beaconed in the direction from which he had come and a drastically thin, dark-haired woman materialised, grabbing at his arm. He bent his head to whisper in her ear and the she giggled. Looking closely, Mary recognised the beautiful face of an actress that had been popular a couple of years ago when Mary had been making her debut, Rose-Marie… something-or-other. She watched as the woman leaned into Patrick's neck, and he ran his hand over her collarbone and down her chest. _

_Despite his lewd display with another woman, Patrick was addressing her. "You'll be pleased to hear that Matthew's conscience is much more energetic than mine." He leaned forward, pressing the woman to bend over as well, still running his hand over her form and now across her rump. He gave her a sharp slap and the woman sprang upright, giggling, but this time the face under the weave of black curls had changed and Mary was gazing at her mother, still gripped in Patrick's amorous embrace._

"_Shall I bring you something for your headache, my dear?"_

_Mary shook her head, trying to clear it. She was so very confused. "Mama, I don't have a headache."_

"_Of course you do darling, otherwise Patrick wouldn't have had to go elsewhere. Isn't that why men always stray? 'Not tonight darling, I've got a headache.'" She and her former son-in-law chuckled lowly, intimately, mocking her._

"_But Mama…"_

"_Not Turkish gentlemen, though." Her father's voice intoned from behind her and she whirled around to look at him, gaping in shock and confusion. "They get headaches when they stray. Aneurisms, Clarkson says, although it could also be their hearts."_

"_Papa…"_

_Her mother spoke up again, coming around her to stand with Robert, her hand wrapping around his shoulder. "Don't quarrel with Matthew, one day you may need him."_

"_But I haven't…not for months now, not really. And I already need him."_

"_Yes Mary- he might be useful." Patrick was shouting this from far away, and she turned to look for him. He was on the other side of the lawn now, heading for the treeline, but he continued to yell back at her; "I've ruined myself, you see, and you'll need someone to help you sort my mess out. A powerful protector for you to hide behind when everything gets too …vulgar." _

_As he moved further and further from her and disappeared behind one of the large oaks, other figures appeared through the trees. Matthew and Edith stepped out of what appeared to be a bower, hand in hand and gazing adoringly at each other. Over Mary's shoulder Cora was clapping, but Robert loudly cleared his throat, causing Matthew to look up. On realising they were all there he dropped Edith's hand quickly and moved towards them. Suddenly the distance between them was nothing and in a second he was stood in front of Mary, his piercing blue eyes commanding her gaze and he was holding her hand as he had last night, before they parted._

"_I will do everything, anything, to help you."_

"_Thank you."_

"…_so long as my middle class background no longer troubles you." She began to shake her head but was interrupted by her father._

"_Don't put Matthew off, darling. He'll have some good ideas for you." He looked momentarily contemplative. "Do you know, he's quite the son to me now?" A look of dawning inspiration crossed his features and he beamed widely at her. "And I think we might even let you stay here if you married Matthew."_

"_Yes Mary, don't worry. You can go to sleep now- everything will look better in the morning. Of course I say that because it's usually true, and now that Matthew is here, how could it be otherwise?"_

_Robert hugged his wife to him. "Quite right, my dear, now that we have Matthew, everything will be fine."_

_At that moment Sybil danced into her field of vision, preening as if she were standing in front of a mirror and pulling at the legs of a pair of ghastly turquoise pantaloons she was inexplicably wearing. As she pranced and twirled between her parents her sotto voice carried the little song she was singing to herself;_

"_Matthew… Matthew…"_

"…_Matthew." Mary turned back to Matthew, their gazes locking as tightly as their hands…_

…and awoke in her bedroom, his name, and a smile, on her lips.

* * *

><p><em>Erm, yeah.<em>

_Please leave me a review and let me know what you think. There was a LOT in this chapter- what are your thoughts on Patrick? I'm *dying* to know!_


	11. Chapter 11

_Thanks for all the great reviews/comments (FFN can't seem to decide what to call them this week) on the last chapter- it really helps me to hear what you like and what you don't. I'd really like to thank the reviewers who don't have accounts, or review anonymously, because I don't get to do so in PMs- so thanks to** Isa94941, KA, Liz, emily and anon**. _

_I hope you enjoy :D_

_***Rosamond has become Rosamund, as I always expected, but in my defense I thought I was bowing to greater knowledge because it IS Rosamond in the 1x05 subtitles which, due to the nature of this fic, I am using heavily. Sorry to anyone it disturbed the flow for***_

* * *

><p>Edith decided it was going to be a very pleasant morning indeed.<p>

The sun was shining, breakfast was still hot and, despite resuming her pre-marital habit of breakfasting with her father and sisters, Mary had not appeared that morning. When her father had enquired after her, Carson relayed she had taken a tray in her room, complaining of a slight headache, but not severe enough to warrant a powder.

_It was nice_, though Edith, sipping her orange juice, _to enjoy ones breakfast without having to be on guard for insults in subtext and outright heckling_. She placed her glass on the table in front of her and looked about brightly; ready to engage her family in conversation, buoyed by her pleasant mood. "Who's that from, Papa? You seem very absorbed."

Robert glanced up, frowning slightly. "Your Aunt Rosamund."

"Anything interesting?" Asked Edith, failing to read her father's tone that clearly suggested he was uninterested in conversation, troubled by something he read in the letter.

Indeed, his response was quite short. "Nothing to trouble you with."

Instead it was Sybil who picked up the tread of conversation. "Poor Aunt Rosamund. All alone in that big house. I feel so sorry for her."

"Well, she should have Mary to visit with, shouldn't she? If only Mary would move back to her _own_ house in London. Isn't that what widowed relations are supposed to do- visit each other and parade around Eaton Square?" Edith continued with her meal, unconcerned or unaware that the other members of her family had stopped eating around her to stare at her.

It was Robert who addressed her comment, folding his letter with an angry snap. "Really, Edith, I wish you wouldn't talk like that. There will come a day when someone thinks you mean what you say."

Her reply was petulant. "It can't come soon enough for me."

"If it's your sister that overhears you, I won't be pleased and we'll see who it is that's told to visit her aunt in London for a while." Robert leaned over the table to hand Sybil a letter that had arrived for her, but his eyes remained on Edith. There was anger there, certainly, but there was something else in his gaze- something assessing...questioning.

After a moment Edith looked away, unsure of what his look meant but chastised by his words. The Earl's scrutiny lasted a moment or two longer, before he turned abruptly and left for the library, clearly still angry.

Edith was not overly fazed, but Robert decided it was going to be a very unpleasant morning indeed.

* * *

><p>A similarly domestic, if not quite as fraught, morning scene was being played out at Crawley House down in the village. Matthew had hoped to be out the door and on his way to work by now, but his mother caught him just as he was making sure he had everything together for the day.<p>

"I thought I'd write to Edith to settle our promised church visit," she called from her place halfway down the stairs.

"Oh, yes, if you'd like to, Mother…" Matthew was clearly distracted, but after a moment's pause he looked up at his mother, a small scowl marring her darling boy's brow. Isobel hid a slight smile. Having taken notice of several very stilted conversations between her son and his cousin over the past few weeks she anticipated his reluctance for her idea. "…but I think I might give this outing a miss if you don't mind."

Trying to appear concerned she took a couple more steps down towards him. "Well I don't mind, but can I ask why? It's a shame to throw her over when she made such an effort to arrange the last one."

"I'm afraid it's all the effort that she's willing to go to that quite puts me off." He gave her a significant look. "When Mary initially mentioned it a month or so ago I had hoped it was all in her head, but I'm afraid I've cottoned on to the fact that Edith is rather barking up the wrong tree."

Isobel let her smile bloom over her face, her affection for him warming her. Her darling boy had never been comfortable talking to her about _girls_, but she had seen his effect, so much like his father's, on them for years now, all while he remained completely oblivious to it. She moved to the stair that would put her level with him and leaned over the lower two to press a kiss to his reddened cheek, patting his shoulder at the same time.

"Ah, you've seen it for what it is now, have you? I did rather wonder that you hadn't before. Poor Edith." Matthew rolled his eyes, smiling ruefully as he moved down the hallway to collect his coat. "I hope there's a right tree for her somewhere," she called after him.

Molesley appeared from the other end of the hallway where he had been seeing to the dining room after breakfast. Well aware of Mr Crawley's _independent_ _nature_, they had settled into something of a routine- he would valet Mr Crawley in his dressing room, but Molesley was to find himself busy elsewhere when it came to the donning or removal of coat and hat when Mr Crawley was leaving or returning from work.

That said, the lightened nature of his duties meant that he often had very little to do in the small home, and so he saw no reason why they wouldn't approve his request. "Ma'am, I wondered if I might have some time this afternoon to help in the village hall."

Matthew looked up with interest. "Why? What's happening?" he asked curiously. He'd not heard of anything in the offing at the big house.

"It's the flower show, sir, next Saturday. I'll give my father a hand with his stall if I may." Matthew was no longer surprised he hadn't known of any imminent event in the village- it was more than a week away! What on earth about the stall could need a week's preparation- it was Downton, not Chelsea- any flowers put out would surely be dead in the meantime and it didn't take a week to stand a trestle table up?

"Of course you must go," replied his ever gracious mother, clearly not seeing the absurdity.

Glancing at his watch, Matthew realised this had all taken rather a chunk out of his morning and he was going to be very late if he didn't make a move. "And so, I'm afraid, must I." He kissed his mother on the cheek in their usual fond farewell and Molesley moved before him to open the door- their sole concession to his role in the mornings if he happened to be in the hallway when the portal needed opening.

* * *

><p>Two hours after breakfast Lord Grantham was still out of sorts. When he should have been going over the initial plans for the autumn crop, he was instead dwelling on the letter from his sister, and the niggling thoughts it had inspired in him all morning. Thoroughly distracted, he had been watching his wife out of the library window for some time and, needing a second opinion and some reassurances, he made his way to her.<p>

"Busy?" From inside he had assumed she had come out to the bench to enjoy the warmth of the morning but he could now see that she had a folio open on her lap, pages flapping- desperate to be freed into the gentle breeze.

She didn't turn, still concentrating on her mornings work. "I'm just trying to sort out the wretched flower show."

Coming around to the front of the bench Robert decided that his preoccupation couldn't wait the length of any more small talk- his mind was too disturbed. "I've had a letter from Rosamund."

"Don't tell me. She wants a saddle of lamb and all the fruits and vegetables we can muster." There was a teasing glint in Cora's eyes that he responded to, allowing her to momentarily take him off track. The fact that Rosamund had indeed asked, almost word for word, for exactly that, put a small smile on his face for what felt like the first time that day.

"She enjoys a taste of her old home."

It was a jesting chide, and Cora answered in kind; "She enjoys not paying for food."

Turning more serious, Robert decided he needed to come to the point; "there's something else." Lady Grantham looked up in interest, responding to his change of tone.

"Apparently, word is going round London that Evelyn Napier has made some comments regarding Mary. That he has made a show of completely shunning both of the Semphill girls and she writes as if, somehow, he has done so on Mary's behalf."

A frown of confusion crossed his wife's face. "Well, what on earth can she mean by that?"

"She makes it sound as if Mary needed defending in some way… and that it is stemmed from some long held rumours that Patrick had somehow been found wanting. In his character."

Cora rolled her eyes and smirked ruefully. "Your dear sister is always such a harbinger of _joy_. I'm sure Patrick was no saint in his younger days, but what man is? Naturally the rumours would have been expounded upon - do you know how many of the society mamas we annoyed when we secured him for Mary? If anything gets their goat, it's being bested out of a title for their darling debutante."

"Well I'm not sure I believe Mr Napier would have acted on mere rumour."

"Neither do I, really, but…" Cora shook her head a little sadly. "I suppose there _may_ be something in it. Lady Branksome mentioned _something_ a couple of times, but nothing I was worried about…"

"What?" Robert's expression was thunderous.

Cora hurried to placate him. "But it was nothing. You know what her marriage was like, she saw infidelity everywhere."

"Yes, and I know she showed an inordinate amount of partiality to Mary…" There was a dawning look of realisation, "…almost as if they had something in common."

His wife raised her brows, looking contemplative, but not overly concerned. "If you're unsure, maybe you should talk to Mary."

He shrugged, looking further perturbed. "She never listens to me and I doubt she'd admit much, anyway."

No, his eldest was always one for keeping things close to her chest, which was one of the reasons his sister's gossip had the ring of truth to it this time- if it was true, Mary would never have let on. Had it been nonsense she would have played it up as such, using it to defame Patrick at every opportunity. Of all his girls, Mary was the hardest to get a read on…he believed (ironically enough) that Sybil was still young enough to confide everything in her parents, and Edith, well, she wore hear heart on her sleeve… it was another thing that had concerned him about Rosamund's letter and her intimations about Patrick's behaviour;

"If it is true, you don't think…well…Edith!" He began to pace in agitation.

"No darling," Cora scoffed. "I doubt there's anything of truth in it anyway, but Edith and Patrick wouldn't have done that. And certainly not to her sister."

"You didn't hear Edith this morning… then again, any given morning they're at each other's throats. And Edith did like him… very much so. You don't think she'd be persuaded to…"

Cora broke in quickly, hoping to head him off before he upset himself too much more. "Darling, this is all nonsense. She idolised him as adolescent girls always idolise boys, that's all." She screwed up her nose a little in clear distaste. "I don't see that there's anything in all the stuff with Patrick, anyway. He was a nice boy- a little feckless maybe, but nice. He and Mary would have been fine, but it just didn't work out that way."

Robert wasn't so sure, but he wasn't going to push it now. "Hmmmm."

"You know, Edith's not an adolescent anymore. She should be married." Cora waited, but received no response from Robert who was still pacing thoughtfully in front of her. "I'm going to invite some neighbours up for dinner. Perhaps you could talk to Matthew?" she coaxed, hoping that a little gentle persuasion could prompt him to discuss more than just the invitation to dine.

Robert ignored it- it wasn't worth the effort if she couldn't read the lay of the land for herself just yet. "I'll ask. Who else shall I tell him is coming up?"

"What about Anthony Strallan?" Cora said with a calculating grin.

"Anthony Strallan is at least my age and as dull as paint. I doubt Edith would want to sit next to him at dinner, let alone marry him."

She looked incredulously. "I don't mean for _Edith_, Robert. I'm thinking about _Mary_. Edith is nicely matched with Matthew- they just need some more time." She frowned. Despite a nice beginning that hadn't been quite going to plan, of late.

If Robert has been alone he probably would have snorted in amusement at the thought. _Yes, because if Edith would be reluctant at the thought of a dull widower, Mary would be over the moon with him!_ Really, did his wife not understand their daughters at all?

Instead of bringing about another awkward conversation, he merely pointed out the obvious; "Mary is still in mourning for her husband, not to mention the fact that we haven't even ascertained that she would look to marry again."

Cora's smile suggested that he was clearly missing something. "Of course she'll marry again. Why wouldn't she? Anthony Strallan would be perfect- they're both recently bereaved, so I'm sure he'd wait awhile for her." Cora continued to tick off the points of her master plan on her fingers. "She'd be close to home, she'd still have a standing in the community she loves, and she's still young enough to give him the children he wanted with Maude all those years ago."

Internally shuddering at the thought, Robert gave her a sceptical look- it seemed to be quite the day for them, yet still they went unnoticed. "You've really thought this one through, haven't you darling. What does Mary say?"

"Well, I haven't spoken to her about it just yet, but I will." She smiled at him, not in the least bit troubled by any of their conversation, even though several topics alarmed Robert exceedingly. "Now, I really must get finished here, so you'll need to leave me in peace." She presented her cheek for him to kiss and, on receiving her due, returned to her work.

Robert trudged back to the house, his heart heavier than it had been when he left it.

* * *

><p>Later in the week Mary was glad of the excuse to take a walk into the village. Taking Aunt Rosamund's telegram to be sent was a perfectly idiotic, if useful, method of getting out of the house. She and Matthew had been meeting periodically to talk about the progress of his work on Patrick's legacy and it was becoming more a more difficult to find reasons to get away, especially as their meetings were becoming longer and longer, often turning into walks that took them all over the estate, as they discussed his work, and then whatever took their fancy. Today she had gathered together some papers that referred to contacts Patrick had maintained, as they were still trying to piece together exactly who he was in cahoots with.<p>

Mary's thoughts were miles away- all the way in London, actually. Initially with her aunt, she realised she hadn't been to see them in Downton for over a year, save Christmas, and therefore she had not yet met Matthew and Isobel. Following this somewhat surprising revelation, her thoughts turned to her own London home, wondering what papers Patrick had kept there, and when she might have the time, and the energy, to search through a whole house-worth of old papers. Thus preoccupied, she didn't hear Matthew's initial greeting over the roar of the accelerating car as he cycled up behind her.

"Hello." He swung off his bike, moving to match her in her smaller strides, an activity that had become second nature to him recently. "Is everything all right?"

She startled and then recovered on seeing it was him. "Oh, hello!" she shot him a welcoming smile. "I wasn't expecting to see you just yet. I'm about to send a telegram so I was stopping in to do that before coming to find you."

"Oh?"

She went on conversationally, something that came far more easily to them, now; "Papa's sister is always nagging him to send supplies to London, and then we cable her so her butler can be at King's Cross to meet them."

He nodded, smirking at the indulgences of the rich. "Is this Lady Rosamund Painswick?"

"You have done your homework." She indicated that they should walk past her destination of the Post Office so that they could continue their chat. They'd be coming back this way again, anyway, once he dropped off his bike, as their usual route took them to the edge of the estate park so that he nearly saw her home.

"She wrote to welcome me into the family, which I thought was pretty generous, given the circumstances." There was an awkward silence, neither of them completely comfortable with 'The Great Matter' of her disinheritance yet, despite their new-found ease with each other. "She's also mentioned in a few of Patrick's correspondences."

"Ah, yes." Their _other_ great matter. "She would be. As she was always present in London she was someone he had to be careful around. And her friends. I'm not sure how he managed it, really. Aunt Rosamund pals about with all sorts."

They strode on someway, each enjoying the afternoon calm and the pleasant temperature. As they turned towards Crawley House they naturally passed across the front of the church, jogging Mary's memory. She inquired, with much insolence; "So are you doing any more church visiting with Edith?"

Matthew moved away from her to lean his bike against the wall of the house. He rolled his eyes as he returned to where she waited at the garden gate, ready to resume their walk back towards the post office.

"My mother's trying to set something up but she knows I'm not going to be a part of it."

"Does she know why?"

Matthew nodded, looking away sheepishly as he blushed a rosy tint and Mary smirked, both at his characteristic response and her thoughts; "I wonder if Edith will try and cry off once she realised her big plans for you have gone awry and she'd have to escort your mother around the dreary settings that she had wanted to be romantic."

"Hey, watch out," he nudged her gently with his shoulder, joking. "I happen to like those _'dreary settings'_ thank you. And they can be romantic…" he caught her enquiringly amused look, raised eyebrows and all, and hastened to add "… with the right person, I'm sure."

"I'll take your word for it," Mary murmured.

"I'm not sorry to be a disappointment to her, though. I can't believe how wrong they could get it! Ever so wrong."

"Edith will get over it. Once she realises how misguided Mama is, and when she finds someone she's actually interested in, she'll be fine. And you'll go back to being the dreary middle class cousin." She knocked his shoulder in retribution, and they smiled at each other for a moment.

Matthew sobered- they were coming to the Post Office now and if he could get business over and done with before she completed her errand, they could pass the whole walk up to the Abbey far more pleasantly. "Did you bring those letters?"

"Yes, I did." She fished in her satchel, handing him a small bundle.

"I'll have a look at them this week. Do you have time to meet with me Friday? Will you be able to get away?"

"The day before the Flower Show? Tricky, Mama's sure to want me for something." She rolled her eyes.

"Thursday then?"

"Thursday."

"Good. Go on and get that cabled then. I'll be over at Mr Sinclair's," he said breezily, the barest hint of a smile.

"Mr Sinclair's?" She enquired curiously, giving him a hopeful look. "You know my favourites are…"

"Orange creams. Yes, I know." She couldn't say why it pleased her that he knew this little detail about her, but it did.

"And will you be purchasing some, alongside your bar of Fry's Cream?" A fission of pleasure danced up his spine as her eyes swirled with exactly the inviting chocolaty shade of the delicious treat she'd mentioned. He really _did_ have a sweet tooth and it seemed she had picked up on just how to tempt it.

"You'll have to wait and see, won't you." With that, he strode across the street, waving cheerily over his shoulder.

* * *

><p>Thursday was slow to roll around. By the time Mary hopped up beside him on the stile they had agreed to meet at, she was even more wearied than usual at the drama taking place at home.<p>

"Like what?" Matthew enquired, chuckling as she let out a massive sigh, letting her usually flawless posture flop dramatically into a hunched pose.

"Oh there's quite some uproar at the house. Mrs Patmore can't possibly make the new pudding Mama wants to try."

"Shocking!" Matthew mocked.

Mary tried not to smile, still maintaining her perturbed look, although it was increasingly difficult around him. "Quite! And one of Papa's hideous snuff boxes has gone missing. Why it matters I couldn't tell you- he's never even used the stuff."

Matthew decided to play devil's advocate- it was in his nature after all, and he wanted to draw her out of herself. "I imagine he thinks they're pretty and he likes to keep nice things around him."

Mary smiled winningly at him, seeing exactly what he was up to, and joined in. "Well that's why he has three daughters," she preened with exaggeration, running her hand over her temple, smoothing a few flyaway hairs.

Matthew chuckled, watching the movement of her graceful fingers. "Ah, yes, sugar and spice and all that."

"Well, that's Sybil and me, but it's unkind of you to ignore Edith completely… Particularly as its Sybil who's gone missing"

"Sybil's missing?" Matthew was naturally alarmed. Increasingly so when he noted Mary's apparent nonchalance.

In fact she shrugged. "I'm sure she'll be fine- just out on an adventure. Sybil's quite her own person, you know. As yet, Mama and Papa have no idea they've raised a little rebel- they think any worrying tendencies are just a phase she's going through. Perhaps she's the spice, not me. She's not so sugary-sweet after all."

"Sybil may enjoy the spice of life, but she's not up to your standard quite yet. I'd say you've had your hand in raising that rebel." It was a gentle flirtation they were engaged in, Mary had come to realise. She also found that she really didn't mind it at all. He turned more serious. "Do you really think she's alright?"

"Oh, I'm sure. Mama's worried, of course. One of her Little Women is out on their own. You'd think with literary allusions like that she'd have been happy to raise free-thinkers, but she's probably fretting as we speak that Sybil will come home with Scarlet Fever from nursing the poor… or worse, a penniless German academic. At least she's got the planning for the flower show to keep her busy."

"Ah yes, Lady Mary _Josephine_," he stressed, the reference clicking into place for him. "The flower show. You know it's not all calm at Crawley House, either?"

"No? Why ever not?" Mary adopted a mocking look, attempting to pull off being scandalised. "Is Mrs Bird trying to force pickled eggs on you again? You know, your mother really should tell her that neither of you can stand them."

Matthew chuckled. "No, no. It's nothing like that. Mother's got a bee in her bonnet about the Grantham Cup."

Mary arched that slender brow, and deadpanned better than anyone else he'd ever met; "Well, for starters, do tell your Mother not to wear a bonnet to the flower show. Very bad form. Really, they went out with the turn of the century and if there's a bee in it, it really could upset proceedings."

Matthew laughed outright. "If only it was so easily remedied. Of course the only way she really wants to upset proceedings is to upset your grandmother. She has decided, without seeing your grandmother's blooms of course, or any other competitors, come to think of it, that Old Mr Molesley should win the cup this year."

Mary scoffed. "Granny's blooms," she chuckled. "I'm not sure Granny even knows where the gardener's shed is, so how she could produce prize winning blooms, I don't know. Of course it's Mr Chapman, her gardener that should be getting all the praise, and indeed the prize, if she carries the cup off again this year instead of Mr Molesley."

"Well, Mother's quite determined that it should be an impartial competition this year."

Mary looked sceptical. "She can be as determined as she likes. With Mama suitably cowed into never crossing Granny, and Granny announcing the winners, she might be in for a bit of an upset herself." She paused, and though for a moment, chuckling suddenly. "Whatever the outcome, it will upset Granny even to be challenged. The divine right of Countesses, don't you know? I'll be sure to support your mother's cause and, if given the opportunity, will praise Mr Molesley as verbosely as possible."

"Thank you. Although I'm not sure encouraging them will do any of us any good."

"Perhaps not." They smiled at each other.

"I've had a chance to go through those letters," Matthew said, moving on.

"Yes? Anything interesting?"

"Well I certainly have a better idea of who was involved in setting up the houses. I don't know that I have all of the principal players, but I have some names for you." He withdrew a list from his breast pocket consisting of about eight names. All of them were known to Mary, some better than others. There was one, in particular, that jumped out at her and she saw that there was a mark against his name, as well.

She tapped it as she read it out loud, "The Duke of Crowborough."

Matthew watched her face closely. "Do you know him?"

"I do. I shouldn't be surprised he's here." And she wasn't, really, thinking about it. What was it she had told him? –'_a better friend to you, than he was a husband to me.'_ It was certainly proving to be the case."Why have you put this mark against his name?"

Matthew grimaced, taking the list and folding it back into his pocket. "It seems he was particularly involved with the setting up and maintenance of the house on Avondale Drive. He was apparently a…very frequent visitor there as well. Actually, more often than Patrick himself."

"Really? So they were both…"

"Yes," Matthew affirmed, before she could finish voicing her question. It made him uncomfortable to talk about such things with her, knowing how much it could hurt her to think of them.

"That's interesting."

"Isn't it? It means that we may be able to get some information from him- he won't want this becoming public knowledge and we could use that."

"Yes, that's true- a breakthrough, but it's interesting for another reason, as well."

"Oh yes, why's that, then?" Matthew was distracted, not looking at her but instead now flicking a grasshopper off his cuff.

"Because he asked me to marry him a year or so ago." In whipping around to face her so fast, his face a mask of shock, Matthew nearly fell off the stile.

* * *

><p><em>Please let me know what you thought in the new giant box below :D <em>


	12. Chapter 12

_Thanks to Frea O'Scanlin for the amazing idea. I hope the execution of it works for you :D I'm posting this when super-tired. Apologies for any and all mistakes._

* * *

><p>Cousin Cora was giving him a funny look. "She's fine, Matthew, thank you. A lame horse caused her to be delayed, but how on earth did you hear about Sybil's little misadventure? I was worried silly, naturally, but she was actually only off the map for a couple of hours."<p>

Matthew flushed, realising suddenly that he had revealed insider knowledge of the goings on at Downton. Having not been up to the house in over a week, he could not possibly have received directly from the family himself, other than through his secret meetings with Mary. He gaped for a beat, swallowed heavily and then gaped again, all as Cora's surprised expression deepened into a frown. Matthew ran his hand through his hair, grappling for something to say. His chin worked overtime as his mouth opened and closed as he worked his answer over in his head, feeling as flustered as he no doubt looked.

"…erm, well I think… that is… someone mentioned…something about it to…" he looked desperately around for a likely candidate. Mother?

She was speaking to the rest of the party. "Do look at Mr Molesley's display. He's worked so hard."

"…Molesley!" Matthew finished triumphantly, and somewhat lamely. It was clear that Cousin Cora was not convinced and so he capitalised on the distraction his mother had provided. Turning to the display in question, he boomed rather too enthusiastically; "They're rather marvelous, aren't they?" praising the, admittedly lovely, work of his valet's father to anyone and everyone in the vicinity.

Mary moved closer and shared a lightning quick, rueful grin with Matthew. Isobel had given him the perfect way out of the Countess' interrogation, but also she had given them the perfect opportunity to get the Dowager Countess' goat- just as they had known she would.

Matthew tried in vain to keep his eyes from Mary as she stepped up to the display, and the answering grin off of his face, so as not to give away their game but it was difficult. Mary was much better at this sort of thing than he was, obviously. Indeed, she was positively nonchalant, only her eyes, twinkling slightly more than usual, gave her amusement away to him. "Lovely. Well done, Mr Molesley." she admired the colourful arrangement with a genuine smile of appreciation.

Obviously, their plan was succeeding. As Molesley Senior thanked Mary for her kind praise, her Granny began to look quite put out at all the acclaim he was receiving. "I think everyone is to be congratulated. It's _all_ splendid," the Dowager Countess remarked pointedly. Isobel turned to her, thunder written all over her face, and the argument began in earnest.

Having lit the blue touch paper, Mary and Matthew stood well back as they watched the fireworks. Not that they had really needed to add the spark - it was clear that the two matriarchs had this battle well in hand all on their own. After the final volley and retreat, the youngsters of the party reconvened, trying desperately to hide their amused smiles.

"Poor Granny. She's not used to being challenged."

"Nor is mother. I don't think I realised the extent of the hornet's nest we've stirred up quite thoroughly. Perhaps we should let them settle it between themselves now?" He looked quite gleeful at the fact that they would be able to stand by and watch the fun and she admired his handsome boyishness.

With a shock she realised that this was not the first time she'd had such thoughts. In fact, largely unconsciously, she had been observing his appeal for some time, even before they were friends. Now she thought about it, she could date her notice of him from that first morning when they had spied each other at the train station, before she'd even known who he was. It all seemed so long ago, now…

There was an uncomfortable pause, and before it could become more so, allowing Mary to dwell further on things that should probably be contemplated somewhere else and alone, Mary embarked on small talk. "So are you interested in flowers?" she asked for the sake of something to say.

"I'm interested in the village. In fact, I'm on my way to inspect the cottages. Would you like to come? It's been a few weeks since you last saw them and we've made lots of progress."

He looked so proud, and Mary was sorry to have to disappoint him. "I would love to come, but Mama has me helping with the judging and then placements for dinner this evening."

"You know what all work and no play did for Jack?" Matthew wheedled, beguilingly.

Mary feigned shock. "And you think me a dull boy, do you?" she pouted prettily. "I see I shall have to re-think my dress selection for this evening. Perhaps something a little more feminine. You are coming up for dinner tonight?"

"Yes, although I suspect I'm there to balance the numbers. Perhaps, with a little effort from you, I could balance them at your end of the table?" His wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, making her laugh. "I'm sure you'll look most feminine in anything your wardrobe has to offer. Is it in aid of anything?"

"Not that I know of. Just a couple of dreary neighbours, that's all." Mary rolled her eyes, contemplating the coming boredom.

"All the more reason to get my seating right- I'll shine by comparison." The boyish grin in full force and Mary laughed again at how sure he was of himself.

"Will you indeed?" She let her eyes run over him, taking in the well cut suit that nicely defined his strong looking thighs, tapered waist and broad shoulders. The flop of blond hair that lay like a cresting wave over his forehead begged for her fingers, and she clasped her fingers together tightly to prevent a misbehaving hand from reaching out to it. Reversing the trail of her perusal, she pursed her lips as if in disapproval, letting the exact opposite of what she really saw and felt register on her face, and turned away. With a bright smile and teasing; "Maybe you will," thrown over her shoulder as she left with her Grandmother. The flush of her cheeks didn't fade until she returned to the Abbey for tea.

Matthew stood rooted to the spot. Her leisurely visual examination of his clothed body had flickered over him as if she had run her fingers over his bare skin. Perhaps, with the smouldering look he caught through her lowered lashes just before she turned away, she had incinerated his clothes and he now stood, in the middle of the preparation for the flower show, completely nude and open to her touch?

Matthew eventually came to his senses, but that look stayed with him for the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>Sitting at her vanity later that evening, Mary told herself that it was not because Matthew was coming up for dinner that she chose to wear her newest dress. After all, it was to be the largest party she'd attended in a long time, it made sense to wear one of the nicer half-mourning frocks she'd had made. She should be seen at her best by <em>all<em> of their guests that evening.

She also told herself that it was in aid of the occasion, rather than any one particular guest, that she dabbed on her favourite perfume. It was the one from Paris that she used only very rarely because it was very expensive and hard to get hold of.

The fact that she was still sitting in front of her vanity contemplating jewellery selections almost 20 minutes after Anna had left her was also entirely inconsequential. Finally, she sat assessing herself in the mirror and was happy with the way she looked; heather grey, onyx, peaches and cream.

A knock at the door broke her out of her thoughts and, despite answering that she was coming, thinking herself to be late, her mother pushed through and into her space.

Mary, unconcerned by the intrusion, picked up a pearl broach and tried it against the grey of her dress. "Does this broach work? I can't decide."

"Charming," was her mother's distracted reply, barely looking up, but Mary decided it was more striking to stay with the onyx, placing the broach back into her jewellery box as she watched her mother from the corner of her eye. The fact that she had clearly come in to say something, and had yet to do so, meant that, whatever it was, it was likely to be something Mary wasn't going to like.

Cora paced her way over to the bed and took a seat, watching the picture her eldest made in the mirror. It solidified her purpose in coming in –Mary really was far too lovely, and too young, to spend the rest of her life alone, and it was time someone started on the subject with her.

Recognising the look on her mother's face from years gone by, when her mother would often come to this room to plead Patrick's case, Mary was surprised. "A scolding, Mama? Surely I'm too old for that now?"

The Countess chuckled. "Of course you're too grown up to scald these days." She fingered the lace trim of the nightgown on the bed- certainly not something she would have bought for any of her daughters. "Not to mention you were a married woman."

"Heavens. Then it's really serious." Mary dabbed on another drop of her perfume, more for something to do with her hands than necessity. It was subtle, if heady fragrance, and luckily she was still a long way from over doing it.

Cora decided to cut to the chase. It was never worth beating around the bush with Mary - she just wouldn't stand for it, becoming more and more cutting as the delaying tactics lengthened, something her mother wanted to avoid in general, but particularly tonight when she has such high hopes for the evening.

"I'd like you to look after Sir Anthony Strallan tonight," She began, a note of entreaty in her voice. "He's a nice, decent man. His position may not be quite like Papa's, or what Patrick's would have been, but you could still be a force for good in the county."

Mary was horrified! She turned as far as the chair would let her, looking at her mother in open-mouthed disbelief. Was she never to be free of this type of machination? And Anthony Strallan? When would her mother learn that a marriage required more than the advantages to, and relative availability of, the man and woman in question?

"Mama, not again!" She snapped, not even attempting to hide her anger. "We cannot possibly be back to the place where I am to be ordered to marry the man sitting next to me at dinner. It was bad enough when it was Patrick, but now it's whichever of the neighbours you can scare up? Do they have to be widowers, or is that just a happy coincidence in this case"

"Mary!"

"I'm still in mourning, are we already going to do this now? Are we really going to do it at all? I've already told Papa I will not be told who to marry again. Given my time over I'd be more adamant about things with Patrick, and at least I stood to gain something there. Do you really thing I'd marry Strallan? To what end?"

"Somehow, I don't know how, there is a rumour in London that Patrick was not quite the upstanding young man he ought to have been and that it caused problems in your marriage. It's causing your Papa to worry and I don't like to see it. If you were properly settled again, especially if it were here in the country, I expect all the talk would die down and your Papa would forget all about it."

"And you're not curious about these rumours? You don't have anything to ask me? Anything at all?" Mary was incredulous, not to mention livid. There was talk in London, she didn't speak of her marriage to anyone and she hadn't wanted it in the first place but no one from the family was the least bit interested in finding out why?

The idea that she should again be pushed into anything, let alone another unwanted marriage, by Patrick's habits was abhorrent! That she should hide away in the country because there was gossip- likely true gossip- going around London, as if she hadn't given up enough of her life to keeping her parents and the rest of good society in the dark over her husband's behaviour.

"Well, you've never seemed troubled and Patrick was such a nice boy- I'm sure it's just unkind gossip." Cora waving a hand dismissively. "If anyone thought there was any real truth to it every door of in London would have been slammed in his face and ours too by association, so I'm sure there's nothing in it," she breezed.

Mary marvelled at her mother's myopic view of the world in which they lived. Enough people in London knew exactly what Patrick was up to. Of course there were those who disapproved, but there were others that were in on it, or indulged in similar past-times themselves to no ill effect, and plenty of other still who were willing to use the notoriety for their own ends, revelling in the intrigue of Patrick's unsavoury reputation and his wife's apparent ignorance. The idea that they would not be received was preposterous, only just less so than her mother's inability to see past the end of her nose.

"How much does Papa know?"

"He's just heard some silly things from Rosamund, but obviously I've told him to dismiss it. Darling, there's no need to worry yourself, I'm sure it's just unkind inanity. Despite the old adage you know there's nothing people like to do more than speak ill of the dead, and gossip is never more fun that when it's about those who aren't present to put a more mundane spin on things."

Mary nearly snorted at how unaware her mother could be. Surely, at this point, it had to be wilful misunderstanding and selective ignorance?

Not able to speak for fear of rudeness, she let her mother return to her pitch. It wasn't worth the effort of arguing at this juncture- Lady Grantham clearly had the bit between her teeth. She sat back, looking suitably unimpressed, but it was clear her stance was having no effect on her mother, who rambled on thinking she had a captive audience thanks to the lack of comment for her usually verbose daughter.

"You know, Sir Anthony has a wonderful home, with acres of farmland. He's always been very progressive in his methods and maybe that's something you'd like to get involved with- like you do with Papa and Matthew?" She paused, but receiving no reply, continued on; "He really would make the most wonderful father- such a steady character! And he and Maude really wanted children, tried for them for years." Mary fairly shuddered at the thought. "I really think that even if you only had daughters…"

There was nothing for it now; Mary was becoming more livid by the second. "_Even_ if I _only_ had Sir Anthony's daughters. What a happy prospect. And how _progressive _of Sir Anthony, not minding if that were the case," she drawled, barely withholding her sneer. "Mama, the world is changing- I'm not even sure I want children…"

"My darling, it's not changing that much. Of course you want children- they'll give you a purpose and bring so much joy to your life."

"A purpose? What purpose is that? Getting them married off to people they barely have anything in common with?"

"Mary," Cora sighed, increasingly put out by the opposition she was facing. "I love you and I'm only trying to do my best for you. I want to see you live a full life. Children will be so fulfilling for you."

"For me, or for you? I know you love me, but I'm not sure you see me," _and I really don't think you know me_, she thought. "I know you're trying to help, but I know what I'm capable of and 40 years of boredom and duty just isn't possible for me. Two years was hard enough, thank you. I'm sorry but you must leave me to manage my own affairs. Why not concentrate on Edith? Thanks to your scheming with Granny she needs all the help she can get. She's going about things in entirely the wrong way, and Matthew, well aware of your interference, has categorically stated that he is not interested in her no matter how much you push them together and it's unfair of you to keep jollying her up in that way."

"Really, I can't imagine Cousin Matthew saying anything of the kind. Why must you be so unkind to Edith?"

"Did you not hear what I said? I'm not being unkind to Edith- if anything I'm pointing out that _you_ are doing her a disservice instead of helping her to use the advantages she has."

Cora stood up and marched to the door. This conversation had not gone as she had intended and she wasn't about to hang around for further haranguing from her own daughter, but before she left she was determined to give a last piece of her mind; "the main advantage Edith has is that she doesn't alienate those who try to help her. She is a pleasant, obedient girl who knows what's good for her." With a flick of her wrist, Cora opened the door and stepped through it, closing it with a loud snap.

* * *

><p>At dinner there was just no escaping. Her mother had taken absolutely nothing from their conversation, or was that confrontation, to heart. As soon as she entered the drawing room she was pressed into 'looking after' Sir Anthony. Mary had looked desperately for Matthew, but he had been cornered by a group of women, including the Countess and Edith, by the fireplace. It was clear that Mama was trying to draw Edith closer to Matthew, but he was talking distractedly to Mrs Foster, his eyes flicking to Mary with a look of helpless fluster as hers similarly signalled her unease with proceedings. Naturally, at the strike of the gong Sir Anthony was the only person that could possibly be on hand to escort Mary into the dining room.<p>

At the same time, on hearing the solemn summons to dinner, Matthew's right arm had shot out like lightening, almost catching Mrs Foster in the stomach, neatly avoiding the careful placement of Edith at his left. His elderly companion was clearly enchanted to have such a charming young man as a prospective dinner partner, grinning in triumph at her husband who merely laughed at her, raising his glass, before stepping up to Lady Grantham, his own arm extended.

Thus they paraded into dinner and Mary found that, despite painstakingly finalising the seating arrangements earlier, she was now seated next to Sir Anthony instead of across from him. She also noticed that Baron Warley had brought Edith in and she seemed contented in his easy company, happy enough to change seats with Mrs Foster, leaving her with Matthew, who sat to Mary's right, despite her mother's clear disapproval.

With the onset of dinner, Mr Foster kept Cora talking until well into the _Remove course_, which meant that Mary was trapped by Sir Anthony. He really wasn't a bad sort, but his conversation was very… well, Jane Austen may have labelled it '_wholesome_';

"Hmm, there's no doubt about it. The next few years in farming are going to be about mechanisation. That's the test, and we're going to have to meet it. Don't you agree, Lady Mary?"

"Yes, of course, Sir Anthony. You know, Cousin Matthew and I were discussing that just the other day," she leaned back in her chair. If her mother would not turn the table then the least she could do for her own relief was engage Matthew and Mrs Foster in the discussion and widen the discourse across both couples. She loved the estate, but farming and foxes by the hour taxed even her enthusiasm.

Agonisingly, Matthew appeared to be engaged in rather an in-depth conversation with his elderly admirer and didn't notice her move to include the two of them. She stared at him beseechingly for a moment but still he remained unaware and thus unmoved.

So she kicked him.

At this Matthew straightened suddenly in his chair and, drawing away from his partner when polite, he looked towards Mary, who by this point had already been drawn back into her exchange with Sir Anthony… something about the straightness of mechanised seed rows compared hand sown… Seeing she had his attention now, Mary was trying desperately not to smile and Matthew knew that was not for Sir Anthony. As she made her reply to Strallan, she felt something curl around her ankle.

Matthew moved his foot to hook her leg, tugging on it gently and pulling it more centrally between them, before sliding the other foot behind to firmly trap it, encasing her delicate ankle between the strong press of his calves. In a natural pause in conversation Mary leaned towards him and whispered;

"That's going to be very inconvenient when we _are_ finally allowed to turn."

"Well I'll reassess the situation then," His hissed in mock outrage. "For the moment its self-preservation and I'm keeping to my defences- you kicked me!"

"I needed help and you weren't paying attention," she hissed back.

"I'm very sorry. I'll make sure to keep abreast of your every move from now on." As he said this he levelled Mary with a frank gaze, and she felt the blue pierce her all the way to her stomach.

Their attention was called away from each other by the novel interruption of Edith, raising her voice above the general clamour of the diners and talking across the table. The unusualness of this occurrences stopped others, and soon everyone was attending to the middle Crawley daughter, the one that was always present, always polite, but rarely remembered, as she spoke passionately about something for the first time that anyone outside of the family could recall; "Sir Anthony, it must be so hard to meet the challenge of the future and yet be fair to your employees."

"That is the point precisely." Sir Anthony replied with a smile, glad that someone was seeing the important point he was trying to get across. "We can't fight progress, but we must find ways to soften the blow." He and Lady Edith grinned at one another in understanding over the table.

"I should love to see one of the new harvesters, if you would ever let me. We don't have one here." The fact that she really did look quite regretful surprised Mary, but now that she thought about it Edith had always been terribly practical about that sort of thing, really.

"I shall be delighted."

Edith, who had rarely talked across the table in her life unless directly addressed, and never at an event such as this, felt quite warmed by her own enthusiasm and looked away from Sir Anthony, now somewhat bashful. The whole table had heard her! But at least Sir Anthony hadn't seemed to mind, and she might even get a look at some of the new machinery. He really was such an interesting man!

In looking away, she caught Mary eye and her sister did something Edith couldn't remember her ever doing before, either; as Mary moved to sip from her wine she gently, almost imperceptibly, raised her glass in a small salute to her sister, her eyes twinkling.

* * *

><p>It was another course still before Lady Grantham turned from Mr Foster on her left to Sir Anthony on her right, finally releasing the rest of the table to close their own conversations and begin again with the partners on their other sides. For the length of the <em>entremet<em> course, Mary had thought her leg would fall asleep, so tightly was it pressed between Matthew's, but now, as she shifted, slightly precariously given the fact that her centre of gravity was off, towards him, she found that she could still feel the comfortable embrace-like warmth of his legs and the definition between trouser leg, stocking and skin, which suggested she still had feeling in her extremity.

"Mama has released me, thank God," she smirked at him as she swivelled to face him.

Matthew rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "Sir Anthony seems nice enough."

"If you want to talk farming and foxes by the hour."

"You've done it often enough with me," he remarked, shifting his left leg a little higher. It was probably a natural adjustment, Mary knew, but for the effect it had on her, it may as well have been a caress. Butterflies the size of dragons were swooping in her stomach, and so she decided to deflect in case any of her distraction was clear on her face;

"Yes, well I'm somewhat compelled to listen to you…" Mary let her sentence tail off flirtatiously.

"Oh yes?" Matthew replied with a smile, leaning into her.

"Physically," Mary finished, giving her leg a sharp tug, feeling it fall away from his. Both of them laughed, but the sensation of being separated now, after so long, was an odd one; not the pins and needles Mary had expected, instead it caused her to shiver as she missed his warmth around her immediately. To distract herself again from the feelings inspired by his touch, she thought of something wholly less pleasant;

"Apparently he's also nice enough if you're looking for a prospective husband for your recently widowed daughter."

Matthew was in the process of clearing his throat gently, shifting to resume a more proper posture now that their legs were not stretched between them. It took a moment for her words to register and, having only just regained some of his composure after their earlier game, he now looked rapidly from Mary to Sir Anthony, his mouth somewhat agape.

"What?" He eventually managed to cough into his napkin. Anything other than his incredulous question was beyond him.

Amused to have flustered him so visibly again, Mary took a slow sip of her wine to hide her smile before explaining herself;

"At least from my mother's perspective," she rolled her eyes. "Oh yes. Mama sprung it on me just before dinner. Apparently it's time to begin ordering me to marry the men that sit next to me at dinner." They both warmed slightly as they realised what she'd said, and Mary took a more fortifying gulp from her glass.

Matthew shifted again in his seat -he really was becoming quite the fidget this evening- playing with the fork that sat next to his dessert. "And do you…?"

"Don't be absurd, Matthew. I spent most of our conversation playing mental word-bingo. One more mention of a combine harvester, whatever that may be, and I would have had to have stood up to shout _'House.'_"

Matthew chuckled, "well, I suppose that's one way to approach the evening." Again he looked over at Sir Anthony and tried to picture him as the attentive lover of Lady Mary, courting her, taking her for long walks about the estate, buying her chocolates… he paused a beat feeling a little light-headed; the shock of realisation causing a rush of blood to the head.

Is that really what they had been doing? How on earth had he not realised…? How long had it been going on…?

Becoming aware that Mary was watching him closely he tried to school his features, somewhat mortified by the play of emotions she may have read over his face since their break in conversation. Quirking his lips into an uneasy smile, he tried to find something to say that would make both of them more comfortable. "I'd been having a lovely conversation about the flower show tomorrow."

"Hmmmm," Mary nodded, deciding not to press him on whatever it was that he had been thinking about. She longed to know his thoughts on her parents plans for her but of course it wasn't the sort of thing one just came out and asked; _'by the way Cousin Matthew, what are _your_ thoughts on me remarrying? My parents are quite set on the idea and indeed, at least in my Papa's mind, you'd be central to events if Mama can't get you married off to Edith first.'_ No, really not the time, or the place, or indeed the lifetime, to be having _that_ conversation.

She pulled herself together and back on track. "Where Mr Molesley's roses will turn everybody's heads. But if you tell Granny I said so, I'll denounce you as a liar."

He grinned, appreciating her lighter tone. "I wouldn't dare. I'll leave that to my fearless mother." They both chuckled, and across the table, the merriment caused a few heads to turn in their direction, most notably her very pleased Papa and a curious Edith.

"How are the cottages?" Asked Mary, still resolved to keep their conversation on safe ground.

"They're coming along wonderfully. I'd love to show you again - it's been a couple of weeks since our strolls have taken us out that way."

"Yes, well perhaps…" Mary was interrupted by a shocking exclamation from Sir Anthony, as he leaned over and spluttered into his napkin next to her shoulder. Mary jumped out of the way, amused horror written all over her face. On realising he'd had a mouthful of salt for pudding neither she or Matthew could contain themselves over the violence of his outburst in reaction. While it was sure to have been unpleasant, one would have thought it was arsenic the way he was carrying on. Slumping towards each other, they giggled into their napkins, legs coming to settle against one another once again- touching and brushing together until the Ladies removed sometime later.

* * *

><p>Mary's spirits were higher that they had been in a long time and, for the first time, she found it difficult to keep her countenance and play the part of the grieving young widow yet, unfortunately, this was the first time she had had to do so in front of such a large and intimate audience. As a result she placed herself at the back of the drawing room, grinning as Sybil came to join her while the rest of the ladies filed to more central positions around her mother and Edith.<p>

Sybil leaned in to whisper; "Poor Mrs Patmore. Do you think we should go down and see her?"

"Tomorrow." Mary groaned, partly amused but mostly sorry for their kindly cook. "She needs time to recover her nerves. I'll look in on Carson first thing as well, you know how much of an embarrassment that will have been for him, the poor dear."

Sybil patted her hand, knowing how much mutual affection there was between her eldest sister and their stalwart butler. The topic of conversation was the same in the other part of the room and Edith's voice drifted over to them; "It seems hard that Sir Anthony had to pay the price."

Mary turned her face into her shoulder, trying to keep in the giggles she had shared with Matthew, but she caught Sybil's eye and both girls mimicked Sir Anthony's exclamation before erupting into further giggles, drawing the attention of the rest of the room.

Edith took particular exception. "As for your giggling like a ridiculous schoolgirl with Cousin Matthew! It was pathetic." She stood and made her way over to her sisters, leaving the guests to commiserate insincerely with their mother over the ruined pudding. Privately, of course, they would be crowing with glee, and it would be all over the county by tomorrow luncheon that Lady Grantham, the Earls American wife, couldn't host a simple dinner party for friends and neighbours, no matter how many times they had eaten perfectly good dinners at her house previously.

Mary looked up at Edith from where she was seated with Sybil, her fair-haired sister looming over them. "Poor Edith. I'm sorry if you feel Cousin Matthew and I may have caused you to be embarrassed in front of Sir Anthony. I hope the whole evening wasn't a disappointment to you- I had thought you were doing quite well."

"Whatever do you mean? How can I have done well? I've hardly had a chance to speak to Cousin Matthew all evening, what with you monopolising him."

"Oh Edith," Mary sighed and looked down deflated. Was it up to her to again disenchant her younger sister? To _again_ point out the folly of her parent's schemes that Edith would be on the losing end of? Could the girl not see for herself where the grass was greener? "You must know your future doesn't lie there."

The supercilious look on Edith's face would have riled Mary up in earlier years. Now she just felt exceedingly sorry for her misguided sister. "Who says?"

"Matthew. Edith, I'm sorry, but he's made it quite plain, short out-right telling you, that he _is not_ interested." She watched for her sister's crestfallen expression, and then wasn't overly surprised when she didn't see it. Instead there was only a look of complete bafflement, which made Mary sigh aloud. "Really Edith, you've gone along with Mama and Granny's scheme for quite long enough. Isn't it time you did something to please yourself?"

"Are you suggesting I buy myself a pair of turquoise pantaloons?" Edith asked, fractiously. It was full of spite, and Sybil recoiled, ready to strike, but Mary placed a hand on her arm. She grinned widely at her younger sister, so proud of her independent nature, hideous turquoise pantaloons and all, before turning back to Edith. "Of course not. That colour would do absolutely nothing for your complexion. What I _am_ suggesting is that you make some decisions for yourself- find out who you are, and the sort of person you want to be, and maybe then you'll figure out the type of person you want to be with. Stop letting Mama dictate your life or else you will end up miserable."

"And if I listen to your advice, I may well end up alone!" There was more malice in her words, but underneath it, the fear called out loud and clear to Mary.

"Edith, Edith." She stood, placing her hand on her sister's shoulder. She didn't attempt a hug, as she would have done with Sybil, but still she expected to be shrugged off in short order. When she wasn't, she briefly squeezed tighter and turned her sister to face the door more fully to watch where the gentlemen were entering. As she did so, their mother moved passed them on her way to intercept their father;

"Oh Edith. You were very helpful looking after Sir Anthony. You saved the day." She shot a scornful look at her older daughter as she carried on past.

Mary could have laughed out loud at the silent rebuke, and nearly missed Edith's whispered reply;"I enjoyed it." The look on her face was contemplative, almost wistful, and Mary battled to keep in her smile once again. Leading Edith around behind the sofa she picked up a book she had been perusing earlier and pressed it into her sister's hands. Edith looked at the title and then at her sister sharply. Mary merely sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, flicking to a particular chapter and passing the book back.

"You seemed to have a lot to talk about. You know, Papa recently asked me something; _'Could he not make you happy, my darling?'_ The answer doesn't have to be yes on this occasion, but wouldn't you like to find out?" With that, she nudged Edith in the direction of Sir Anthony.

* * *

><p>"I hope our salty pudding didn't spoil the evening for you," Lord Grantham chuckled lowly, checking over his shoulder that Sir Anthony wasn't quite in ear-shot.<p>

"On the contrary." Matthew was very pleased with the way the evening had gone. In fact, he'd had a wonderful time.

"I'm glad you and Mary are getting along, there's no reason you can't be friends."

"No. No reason at all." If only Robert knew, he thought, just how friendly they were getting- friendlier that he had ever been with another woman and certainly…rather familiar, now. The new revelation that had come to Matthew during dinner- _just_ how friendly they were, had initially thrown him for a loop, but with a bit of time since the ladies removal he'd had a chance to really relish the idea of his time and growing intimacy with Cousin Mary..._Mary_! It was something he had never allowed himself to contemplate before, but now that he did he wondered exactly what was going on between them and if it really was between them, or just coming from him.

"I don't suppose there's any chance you could sort of, start again?"

"I don't think there's any need for that. I think we're going along just fine as we are." They entered the drawing room and Cousin Cora collected Robert from him with a smile, leaving Matthew to search the room for Mary, whom he found standing a little way off with Sybil, watching Edith approach Sir Anthony. They were so engrossed that he wondered for a moment what they were up to, but once other pair began conversing easily, the sisters looked away, turning towards each other with happy grins.

"What have you both been up to?" Matthew asked with a smile as he sidled up behind them, fully aware that it was probably something he was better off _not_ knowing.

Sybil grinned, and looked between him and her sister. "Heavens, is that the time? I told Mrs Robert's I'd see the photograph of her new grandchild and she'll be going soon." She briefly, and discreetly gripped Mary's hand as she walked away, leaving the two of them to talk which they fell to with the ease Sybil had been taking note of for weeks now.

On the other side of the room Cora huffed loudly in exasperation. Turning away from his own conversation, Robert looked at her with raised eyebrows, silently asking for an explanation as to what was making her so unhappy.

"Mary can be such a child," she bemoaned, watching her eldest laugh quietly with her cousin.

"What do you mean, darling?"

"She never was able to share her toys nicely when they were children, and she still teases Edith by keeping things out of her reach now."

Robert was completely lost. "What _are_ you talking about?"

"Why Matthew of course. He's Edith's prize and yet Mary will insist on detaining him."

Robert looked from his eldest, happily engaged in conversation with his heir, sparking as he hadn't seen her do for years, to his middle child, who appeared to be happily entertaining, and entertained by, Sir Anthony. He smiled down at his wife;

"To win the prize you have to be in the contest... and the consolation prize is still a prize." He stroked his wife's cheek, desperate for her to come to some realisations regarding their daughters and their futures, and not be upset when her plans inevitably went awry, but she turned back to her conversation thinking he just didn't understand.

* * *

><p>It was a little while later that Matthew mentioned to a surprised Mary that he thought he ought to leave.<p>

"But you're not working tomorrow. Surely you don't need an early night just for the flower show."

He smiled gently at her. "The truth is my head is splitting. It has been for a while, but I didn't want to spoil the party, and I wanted to speak to you, so I'll just slip away now. Would you make my excuses to your parents?"

"Yes, of course, but let me see you out." She preceded him into the hallway, ready to offer him any assistance. "William, Mr Crawley is leaving. Could you have Branson bring the car around as quickly as possible?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Actually never mind that," he called to a retreating William before lowering his voice and looking back to Mary. "I'd rather walk. A bit of clear air might hopefully shake off this bad head."

"If you're sure?" Mary looked worried, a concerned frown furrowing her brow. Matthew smiled and stepped closer, checking to ensure William was at least a discrete distance away.

He reached up and ran his thumb over her brow, murmuring, "You mustn't worry about me, you know. I'll be quite alright, it's only a headache."

She smiled softly to dissipate the frown he clearly took exception to. "Well make quite sure that you are. I'm only letting you go because I know that your mother will take good care of you."

"And if she wasn't around? Would you look after me, then?" He grinned, jesting. At least, it started out that way.

"Of course I would." She said seriously.

"Would you?" Their eyes locked, and something in the air around them shifted. After a moment's hesitation, Matthew leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her smooth cheek, briefly relishing the heady scent of her skin. Pulling back, he looked at her again, trying to judge her response to his actions.

She was far too shocked and overwhelmed to say anything, but attempted to maintain a complacent visage so as not to scare him away before she'd decided what she truly felt about his gentle kiss. It was a new step in their relationship, but still a tentative and, if she were honest with herself, logical one.

Seeing no immediate concern in her eyes he hurried to leave, happy to let them both contemplate the evening and their interactions in the fullness of time. Tipping his hat to her, he slid out into the evening.

Mary watched his retreating back from the internal door, her hand pressed to the tingling spot on her cheek. She did not return to the party in the drawing room that evening.

* * *

><p>Despite his headache, Matthew was in a buoyant mood when he arrived home. Not waiting for Molesley to appear in order to remove his outerwear at the front door he threw his coat down with a flourish and moved to greet his mother.<p>

Isobel watched his happy countenance with pleasure. "I was expecting you later than this. I'll tell Molesley to lock up."

"Thanks." He surveyed his mother who was still dressed up for her own evening engagement in the village. "And how was your evening."

"Very pleasant, thank you. The Clarkson's always put up a wonderful spread, although nothing compared to the Abbey, naturally. They were sorry you had other plans, but understood. How was your evening? Did you enjoy yourself?"

Matthew beamed in response. "Quite. I have a bit of a headache, but I think…" He surveyed his mother. As much as he loved her, he really wasn't comfortable talking about this sort of thing with her and, to be honest, he wanted to keep his happy little secret to himself for a little while longer. "I think we're going to be happy here, Mother. It's taken me a while to get my head around it all, but I really do think everything will be wonderful."

Isobel reached a hand out for her son to hold, pleased beyond measure that he was feeling so at peace. It _had_ taken a while, as well it should when your whole life had been turned upside down, but she was so please for him and so happy to see him finding his place in the world. Nothing could be too good for her boy and if he was content, then so was she. The only thing that would please her further would be to see him happily settled, in love and with his own family…

"Goodnight then, Mother," he said, stooping to kiss her cheek, before bounding happily up the stairs. She followed more slowly after him to see about a powder for his head.

* * *

><p>With both her Papa and Cousin Isobel on Granny's back about the flower show prizes, Mary now felt rather sorry for her, even as she watched, ever amused, Violet's irrepressible fighting spirit. She trailed around after her parents, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Matthew was trailing her, trying to catch her eye. It took a few moments, but the family group dispersed and she was able to approach him. For a moment neither of them said anything, but each smiled and looked away, unable to meet each other's eyes for long, awkward after the events of the previous evening.<p>

Eventually, Matthew cleared his throat and began; "I hope no one thought me rude for leaving last night… and I hope I wasn't too… forward before running off."

"Certainly not. I explained why you had to go and everyone was sympathetic. I hope you are feeling better today?"

That she hadn't addressed the last part of his statement wasn't really a surprise and in a way he was thankful for it. He knew her well enough now to know that, if she'd have been upset, he would have known all about it. "Very much so. I had a lovely evening and I'm so glad that we had a chance to talk."

"Me too." _Euphemisms_, Mary thought, _are wonderful things. _As if it were their idle chatter of the evening before that either of them were thinking about at this point._  
><em>

They smiled at each other and the air was beginning to shift again when Isobel called for Matthew. He turned reluctantly and acknowledged her with a small wave before facing Mary with a look of regret, "I should look after my mother." She nodded and shrugged as he tipped his hat, both secure in the knowledge that they could catch up again after the prize giving.

After a moment Edith appeared over Mary's shoulder. "So that's why you were so determined to get rid of me and push me at Sir Anthony."

Mary sighed, rolling her eyes. Annoyed at her pleasant contemplation being interrupted, she was even angrier at Edith's assumptions. Could the girl be any less grateful and more gullible? "Don't be stupid."

"You know he was meant for me," the younger girl gritted out, thrusting her chin to indicate where Matthew was now stood with Isobel.

Mary turned to face her sister fully. "Yes, but he didn't want you, did he? And really, can you honestly say you wanted him?" She didn't leave Edith time to reply, already fully aware of the answer. "You have to admit, it's quite funny how wrong Mama can be in these things."

"The only thing I'll admit is that while you're in those drab dresses and black hats you have no business attracting a man. You have no standing and no options, and for all your superior notions of finding a husband you can be _happy_ with, sometimes Mama and Papa make the right choices. After all, they didn't marry for love and look at them now.

Mary looked at her sister aghast, astonished at her endless, wilful misunderstanding. There was just _no_ getting through to her. Why would she not understand that her parents were the exception, not the rule? Until she saw it differently, there was _nothing_ Mary could do. And she certainly didn't want to pursue the argument today. Rolling her eyes with a heavy groan, she walked away, leaving Edith to stew.

* * *

><p><em>I'm so, so sorry this is late but my worklife/Downton Abbey balance is not as it should be at the moment, and it won't be for a little while. Graduation was at the beginning of the week when I should have been posting this (yes, it is now, officially, Dr Anniella_Eyes!) BUT I will have you know that I have made a huge sacrifice to get this out to you as soon as possible; I have yet to see Henry IV pt 2 and tonight I went without Henry V. I gave up Tom Hiddleston-time to get this out! (and so will now be spending my Sunday with the trusty iPlayer) I hope everyone appreciates the sacrifice! Please reward it by letting me know your thoughts while I slip into a Tom induced lust-coma :D_

_I'm off to a remote area of Kenya for a month with work at the beginning of August and will have NO internet :(. I have a slight hope to get another chapter out before I go, but sorry in advance if I don't. In that case, I'll see you in September when I hope to catch up on loads of fantastic fic, the S3 press pack and, I guess, the first advert! Woohoo, we're nearly there! _


	13. Chapter 13

_Thank you so very, very much to EOlivet who was kind enough to beta this chapter and offer great advice on writer's block! Without her you would have been waiting much, much longer and this chapter would be appalling. That said, any and all mistakes that remain are purely down to me. _

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><p>Matthew cradled his precious cargo as gently as one might hold an Imperial Fabergé egg, brushing a lock of dark hair, so much like her sister's, away from the wound on her forehead. To his relief, Sybil had regained consciousness moments after Branson had carried her away from the fracas and now she seemed to be resting peacefully- her upper body across his lap, eyes closed but not in sleep. His upbringing had taught him well and he knew that he needed to keep her awake, making her respond to him every few minutes until she had been seen by a medical professional. He now knew the names of all the horses in the Downton stables, as well as those of the stable cats. Apparently, Lynch hated every one of the latter.<p>

It seemed that Branson's driving was more careful than ever before, but it was dark and this stretch of road wasn't great at the best of times. When the motor jolted suddenly to the left, Sybil turned her head into Matthew's stomach, emitting a soft whine.

Branson looked round, taking his eyes off the road for a second, allowing the other man to glimpse the deep frown lining his face and the guilty concern in his gaze. "Is she alright, Mr Crawley?"

Matthew took pity on the younger man whom, he wrongly assumed, was as much in fear for his job as for his injured cousin. Despite his own concern, he answered brightly; "She'll be just fine Branson, as soon as we get her seen to."

Sybil rolled her head away from where it was tucked against Matthew and the next time Branson's gaze flickered to the rear view mirror she gave him a reassuring smile, watching as some of the tension visibly eased from his face.

The car accelerated a little. "I'll get you home, m'Lady. It's not far, now."

Sybil shifted, restlessly. "No, not home. Not like this." Her voice was hoarse and quiet, but the demand had a vehement strength behind it nevertheless. She looked pleadingly up at the man who held her, "somewhere else, please Matthew."

Matthew considered her for a moment, assessing again what he could see of the gash on the side of her head. It was a fairly shallow graze, really, but the knock had been a hard one -the bruise was already colouring to a deep purple and she had been unconscious for a time.

Sybil watched him decide. In the mirror, Branson watched them, too.

"I was going to suggest my mother be brought to the big house but perhaps we could go to Crawley House instead, and have someone brought to you?"

Sybil agreed, but made her concern clear. "Not Papa."

"No, not your Papa." He gave her a reassuring smile, "Mary…," he said, somewhat decisively. "…Or, or Edith, of course?" he backpedalled, stammering, giving Sybil some input on her caregiver.

"Mary, then," Sybil smiled knowingly up at him, and Matthew smiled back, blushing a little to have been so obvious in front of her younger sister. Branson watched their interaction- their shared smiles, open gazes and Matthew's blush, in the mirror. Pressing his lips together, his hands tightened on the wheel and his foot pressed yet harder on the accelerator.

As they sped towards the village, Matthew thoughts drifted back to his conversation with Mary a few days ago with a slight sigh;

"_Hello. What are you doing here? Didn't we see you yesterday?" Her smile was radiant and the way in which she leaned forward to greet him assured him of his welcome, despite the fact he was clearly interrupting her reading. _

_He smiled back; coming towards her now he was surer of his welcome. "Yes. Is that a problem? Don't you want me?" His smile turned playfully ingratiating. _

"_Of course I do," she'd said brightly, a blush warming her cheeks that he found delightful. "It's not a problem, just a surprise." As he had taken as seat next to her on the bench, she had settled back, keeping her book closed and giving him her undivided attention. "What brings you to us again?"_

_He leaning in slightly, leering good-naturedly at her. "Oh you know…" he watched her noticeably catch her breath before, with a look of studied innocence, he leaned back to a more acceptable position "…I'm in search of your father. Carson thought he was outside." She looked momentarily at a loss and he grinning triumphantly at having rattled her. _

_After a moment she chuckled, rolling her eyes at him. "He's in the library," she said casually, but he could see that he was about to be teased in return as she ran her hand slowly along the arm of the bench, casually continuing "but you'd be better off out here with me." He quirked an eyebrow at her forwardness and they both grinned, but she went on, "Papa has found out that your report of the Liberal rally wasn't quite complete."_

_His look turned quizzical. "What do you mean?" _

"_He knows Sybil was there, as well as your mother, and I think he might have a few questions regarding your omission," she finished with a somewhat smug tone._

_He was baffled. "But I had no idea. I was just repeating what Mother told me. She didn't mention Sybil at all."_

_Mary nodded, "Well, just stick to your story. It'll save you, if not your Mother the next time we see her. To say dinner last night was an interesting affair would be an understatement- Papa would prefer it if Sybil thought canvassing was something to do with her embroidery or water colours and at one point Granny even voiced the idea that a woman is only entitled to opinions as received wisdom from their husbands. Can you imagine? What would my opinions have been if I had lived by Patrick's morality?"_

_Matthew reached across and laid his hand over where hers rested on her book, offering no further comment. It wasn't needed. After a few moments of easy silence between them, he leaned back, resting his head on the back of the bench and stretching his legs in front of him. It was a very relaxed pose- completely inappropriate in company- but he didn't give a damn if she didn't. It was so easy to be comfortable with her. _

_He rolled his head until he could see her. "What are you doing out here anyway?" _

_Mary adopted a position that allowed her to look at him as well- turning towards him, she propped her elbow some distance from his head, her head in her hand. She smiled wryly at him. "Hiding. Mama had Sir Anthony sniffing around earlier. I managed to get away on Diamond and Edith went off with him in the car, but now I'm in Mama's bad books and I wanted to escape the inevitable lecture."_

_He chuckled, turning into outright laughter when she gave him a sour look for mocking her troubles. "You make it all sound quite adventurous- you '_managed to get away on Diamond_'. I'm picturing you racing off over the fields with Sir Anthony and Edith in hot pursuit."_

_Mary chuckled too, shaking her head in what looked like amused horror at the thought. "Hollering proposals at me from the open Rolls-Royce? Perhaps with Mama in the back to complete the farce? You know full well what I mean, nothing half so dramatic! It would have been a short chase anyway- my darling boy is lame."_

_Matthew grinned widely, seizing the opportunity. "My jokes may be a bit corny, but I take exception to being called lame!"_

_It took her a moment of puzzlement but when she worked out what he had said she shook her head with a rueful smile and looked away, blushing. _Her darling boy? He really was sure of himself.

_Matthew caught her hand as she began to fidget with her embarrassment, holding it between them. "How is he now?" he asked, sincerely._

_She shrugged with apparent resignation and regret. "Well, I'm hoping that Lynch took a look at him last night so I'm heading over there a bit later. William, the footman, saw to him immediately. Apparently he's very good with horses. Nice boy."_

"_Hmm. Well, his parents might be getting new neighbours. I've had an inquiry about one of the farms." She still hadn't pulled her hand away so he threaded his fingers through hers, bringing their palms into more intimate contact. If Mary noticed, it didn't appear to affect her. It was another of the small intimacies he had been trying since he kissed her cheek in farewell all those months ago now. Each was delicious, and every time he struggled for the control it took to take things slowly. He needed to move slowly and any mention of her marriage reminded him why. _

"_Is that what you're here to see Papa about?" The fact that she didn't react negatively or pull away was enough for him. "I'd tread lightly if I were you. With Sybil discovering politics, Papa's seeing red."_

_He smirked, pulling a little on her hand. "I admire Sybil's passion, though."_

"_Of course," Mary tugged back. "But then I like a good argument. Papa does not."_

"_If you really like an argument…" he tailed off looking away trying to hide his smile._

_She took his opening. "Yes?"_

"_We should see more of each other," he smirked wider._

_She rolled her eyes in exasperation and mockingly exclaimed; "Really Matthew, you've been up here twice in two days! How much more of each other could we possibly see?"_

Matthew smiled slightly at the memory, and then sighed. This was not what he had been hoping for when he said they should see more of each other- summoning her to his mother's house to tend her injured sister - in fact, it couldn't have been more the opposite.

His guilt was already making his stomach churn and he dreaded facing her. It was the only time he could possibly imagine not wanting to see her. He was convinced she would be angry with him, when she heard, for not getting Sybil out of there quicker. What would she think of him when she knew that it was his smart mouth that had led to the first punch being thrown? That it was ultimately his shove that had felled her darling sister?

He sighed again, staring gloomily out of the window.

* * *

><p>The Countess of Grantham watched as her eldest daughter was ushered out of the dining room at the behest of a puzzled-looking Carson. Mary answered no questions as she left, shrugging off her father's inquiries with a baffled look of her own, and Cora sighed, chewing at her lip, as the slim form slipped around the door, disappearing into the night.<p>

More secrets.

This week, she had come to realise that it was possible Mary lived in a world of them.

Initially, when Carson had brought his letter to her she had wondered what he was about. It seemed ridiculous that the _Butler_, of all people, in a grand house like Downton, had nothing better to do than listen to the gossip and idle speculation of other servants. Surely he knew that it was all politicking- the foolish stratagems of servants trying to better themselves by taking advantage of those they served? Oh, she supposed it was normal enough for servants to gossip, but for such a scurrilous story to make it all the way from the Marquis of Flintshire's valet to their own Carson at Downton? It had left her incredulous, to say the least.

The fact that so many had seemed to be giving credence to the ridiculous tales also beggared belief at the beginning. First there was Rosamond with the far reaching rumours from her London set, and now Carson and his servant hall stories. Both of these sources were fairly easily dismissed- each group was prone to tall-tales- if not contained.

When corroboration had followed, and only a few days after Carson had stopped her, from a source that could not be so readily brushed aside, Cora had begun to rethink her position:

_Despite occurring reasonably frequently, the summons from her mother-in-law to take tea always caused a sinking feeling in her stomach. Unfortunately, it was something else that was not easily brushed aside and so she had dutifully attended the mid-week event. Seeing the expression on the older woman's face had compounded her discomfort on arrival and, with her stomach already at rock bottom, the letter that had been thrust into her hands to be read aloud had also sent her heart to her mouth._

_Having deciphered the penmanship, she had begun, haltingly; "I'm sorry to have to tell you that Hugh has heard a vile story about your nephew and son-in-law, Patrick…," _

_The interruption from the Dowager Countess; "Sorry? She's thrilled,"- had gone almost unheard as Cora skimmed the missive further, its appalling revelations requiring one passage after another to be read and re-read, the shock making it harder for the revelations to sink in. _

_Eventually the older woman had broken into her thoughts; "Now, first I must ask, and I want you to think carefully before you answer. How much of this can be true?"_

_That her mother-in-law had been in possession of the same news that Carson had highlighted only days earlier had stunned her beyond words, but then she realised that not only was she being asked to critically question the vile report, but Violet was also indicating that it was somehow reliable! _

_Did the Dowager Countess actually believe the Flinshires' head housemaid's claim that Patrick was the father of her two year old daughter, apparently the product of a short stop-over for Mary and Patrick on the way to London after their wedding trip? _

_To clarify, she had eventually managed to gasp out; "How much? Don't you mean any? Is any of this true?"_

_Violet scoffed. "My dear, you can't be so naïve! Of course you had to have known something of this would come up sooner or later! You had to have heard things in London?"_

As Cora thought back on the conversation now, she was embarrassed to realise that her look at that point would have been sceptical and affronted, but most of all baffled. She had been seated on the low sofa, with the family matriarch looming over her. Before that instance she had never felt _so_ stupid. More than ever before, she felt that her mother-in-law was looking down her nose at her.

Violet would have probably told her that indeed she was.

"_I see. What really is true is that you can't see past the end of your nose. How much else have you heard that you haven't given grounds to, then?"_

_Puzzled, Cora had tried to wrack her brain that was already rushing a mile a minute, largely failing to process the information received and the reordering her thought processes were consequently undergoing. If it was true, then it changed…it explained so much. "Well, Mary didn't want him…" she had recalled, beginning slowly and with dawning realisation._

_Violet nodded, sinking into the chair across from Cora like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. "I wondered about that at the time. It was a good match, and in their youth they were often together, taunting their governesses, riding their ponies, running the distance between the girls' rooms and the bachelors' corridor. They were friends then, surely?" _

_Cora nodded, hanging on to this tiny piece of validation. Their actions in marrying the two may not have been entirely without foundation. "Quite right," she murmured, still lost in thought. Just when had Patrick's character changed? When, and of what, had Mary been made aware? "And there was never any indication that she was truly unhappy once they were wed. She seemed fine. I knew she wasn't ecstatic, but then she's so much like her father…" _

_Despite the gravity of the situation, and their shared concern, naturally Violet hadn't been able to hold back on that opening, and had favoured her with an arch look, replying; "Yes, and he was hardly ecstatic on entering the married state, either. He managed to cover it well, too."_

_Like so often before, Cora overlooked the slight, returning to the subject at hand. She had shaken her head in a laughable attempt to clear it, realising; "she must have taken confidences. Lady Branksome has suggested some things over the years, and of course there was that business with Evelyn Napier that Rosamond mentioned a few months ago." _

"_And none of this made an impact on you? Nothing signalled to you that there was anything amiss with Mary? I asked you, only a few months ago, and you insisted that there was nothing wrong." Cora had been berated by her mother-in-law many times before, but added to her growing self-recriminations, this was, by far the worst occasion. _

_She had tried desperately to put herself on firmer ground, feeling the world crumbling beneath her feet. "Really, was I supposed to believe all the silly little things the gossips say in the drawing rooms?"_

"_When it is repeatedly mentioned and concerns your daughter you could at least attempt to take an interest. Maybe investigate. I always thought that this family might be approaching dissolution. I didn't know that dissolution was already upon us. Surely disinterest, complete disregard in one's own, is the beginning of the end?"_

_Suitably chastised, and with reality hammering home, Cora had begun to feel sick. "My darling girl," she'd muttered, mostly to herself. "I never helped her. She was in this predicament and I never helped her!"_

_Violet sniffed again, clearly conveying her lack of patience with histrionics. Straightening up, Cora had attempted to refocus. This needed to be about Mary, and how they were going to support her. _

_Then Violet stuck the boot in once more; "Does Robert know?"_

_Oh God, no. He didn't know but Cora recognised in that moment that he, at least, had suspected. He had accepted some of the information they had received earlier- his angry reaction to Rosamund's letter was then seen in a different light. "I'm not sure. Certainly not about this…," she waved the incriminating letter to indicate the ghastly accusations it conveyed, "maybe some of the other things…." Even Violet's knowing look could not cow her any more at this point. "…but I suppose he is going to have to. It's terribly wrong." Cora had started to fret. "It's all terribly wrong. But I didn't see. What else did I miss? I was so sure she and Patrick would settle into things…"_

_Violet, never one to pander to anyone, was not about to let her retreat into her own failings. "Please. I can't listen to your attempts to try and justify yourself. Always so prim! I can't just sit here." With that she had gotten up, and begun to pace around the room. The actions had only played on Cora's last nerve. "We must close ranks around Mary. We can build her up, mentally and physically- make her strong enough that we can be sure the gossips are sadly disappointed when they come looking for a reaction."_

But Cora hadn't been able to think straight over tea- a problem she continued to face even now, days later at dinner. She had needed to retreat, and now she knew that she had been running long enough. She needed to talk to Mary.

It was clear to her then, and now in recollection, that her mother-in-law had not wanted to let hear leave. Violet had begun to talk about how the family was going to support Mary;

"_I confess, with Patrick's stain on the family, I don't know how we are to carry ourselves with dignity outside of the house, let alone Mary, but I hope it can be done. When something bad happens, there is no point in wishing it had not happened. The only option is to minimise the damage."_

"_Quite right, _of course_ we have to try to minimise the damage, but if the Flintshires' have got hold of it…" The ghastly distant family and all before her own mother had known!_

"_I'll write to Susan making it clear that, whatever discredit must come to Patrick, it can't possibly reflect badly on Mary. She has done nothing wrong and only her enemies will make anything of it." When Cora had begun to protest, Violet had favoured her with a withering look and drawled, "of course _all_ girls who do The Season well have them. They are not dangerous, not really, and it just can't be helped. We can't have them _all_ institutionalised… I suppose. "_

_Cora had that thought she might need to be institutionalised as the conversation continued. Yet still Violet continued;_

"_One way forward is to get Mary settled again as soon as possible…" _

_It was all too much- suddenly all the conversations she had had with Mary over the last few months came back to her- pushing her at Sir Anthony, rebuking her disinterest in remarrying and children. Talking about Patrick as 'that dear boy.' She had needed to get away. She'd needed to think… _

…and she hadn't been able to face Violet since.

_Jumping up from the sofa, she'd twisted her hands in front of her so tightly that her wrists continued to ache now. "I know this is hard for you to hear, you're so much stronger than I am, but I need some time to process this. God knows it must have been hard for Mary to live through, but she has kept it from us and we can't railroad her into talking about it now. I can't even see how we would approach the subject at the moment. We'll need to… we need to…I need to return to the house." _

As she had swept sharply from the room, the door had slammed shut behind her, her tea still cooling on the side table, just as Mary's dinner was now getting cold at her dinner setting.

She looked to Carson for some explanation for Mary's sudden disappearance, but he was clearly as clueless as the rest of them. Catching her eye, he visibly struggled for the professional maim he preferred to project to the world, his eyebrows retreating from the conference they appeared to have called in the centre of his forehead.

With dignity, he told them as much as he knew of the matter. "Mr Branson brought the car home and said that Lady Mary had been summoned to the village, my Lady. I'm afraid I have no other details." His stoicism, a clever mask for the apparent concern she had seen just seconds ago added to the weight of evidence of her own myopia that had been presented to her this week. How much did others know? How much had they seen and not told her? How many had known her darling daughter had been hurting?

For heaven's sake- why couldn't Mary just tell that about her troubles? She still hadn't said anything yet- either she didn't know the stories were about or she thought her parents still oblivious. It only made Cora feel worse. Now that Cora knew, she had to talk to Mary- keeping her knowledge secret would be dishonest and they couldn't continue this pretence. Even now, the Countess was sure half the story was hidden. The question was, what more could Mary have borne, and yet kept hidden from her family?

Why couldn't Patrick have sown his wild oats abroad like other young men? In most cases, she understood, young men of means could normally find an Italian who wasn't too picky. She could have understood and almost respected that but it was so hard to turn her thoughts from the Patrick who had been such a dear boy to them all, to the scoundrel who had apparently caused her daughter's marriage to be a miserable one. Patrick was family, but by all accounts, save the silent one which was the one that really mattered, he had broken the rules.

Patrick was a dishonourable villain, a wastrel, and Mary had paid for it alone and at their behest.

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><p>It was such a different feeling from just the other day when he had come across her reading on the bench. Then, if there was one person, one person on all the Earth that she could have chosen to interrupt her solitude on that beautiful day, she would have chosen him.<p>

Now, as they raced towards him in the motor to answer his summons, Branson at the wheel working hard to make the sharp turns in the small village at the speed he was going, she really, really didn't want any of this at all, even if it meant seeing him again. What if Sybil, her baby sister, had been seriously injured? What if he wanted her to be there so that she could explain how serious it all was to Mama and Papa? What if…what if…?

When she entered the room, she barely noticed Matthew standing behind Isobel. All she focused on was her sister's prone body and deathly pale face.

"My God! Oh my darling…" Kneeling next to Sybil, she was relieved when her sister opened her eyes, turned her head and smiled, holding out her hand for it to be held. There was a slight graze on her forehead, a small trail of blood and some bruising. Sybil had received worse in rough-and-tumble games in the nursery before now. She would be fine.

It wasn't until Matthew spoke up that she even really took notice of his presence. "I didn't know what to do, so I had Branson bring her here."

"Quite right. Mama would have fainted if she had seen her like this. As for Papa…" Mary trailed off, shaking her head. There really was no need to finish _that_ thought.

Instead she watched as Isobel continued to nurse Sybil, making the dear girl wince as the antiseptic was applied to the staunched wound. As she tended Sybil, Isobel also questioned her son, providing answers to some of the questions that had also risen in Mary's mind. What _was_ Matthew doing in Ripon so late that he had managed to rescue her sister? Was her darling little sister flat out on a sofa, bleeding from the head, because their chauffer had no common sense?

Or was there more to this? Could it really be that Matthew just happened to be in Ripon at the same time as her sister who was out, uncharacteristically, past dinnertime?

Mary's past experiences whispered to her that it was unlikely. She felt an instant flood of anger, but long practice meant that she was able to deflect, and instead she lashed out at Branson.

"What was he thinking? I'm afraid it'll cost him his job." Matthew only hoped that his own part in the trouble wouldn't cost him anything. Really, it was more Branson's fault than his anyway.

Sybil was valiantly defending Branson as Isobel got up off the floor, and Matthew took her place kneeling next to Mary. At that point she could no longer concentrate on what the patient was saying because, after the anxiety of the drive over and finding Sybil injured, all she wanted to do now was lean into the warmth she could feel radiating off the man next to her.

Could she? Obviously she couldn't, not in front of his mother and her sister! But could she trust him? Would he be her comfort?

His comforting voice broke through her thoughts, but he was addressing Sybil; "Are you feeling strong enough to go home? "

"I think so. If you'll take me," Sybil wheezed huskily from the sofa.

For an instant Mary was worried by the dreamy look in her sister's eyes, thinking she was still affected by the bump she took to the head. Then she saw Matthew's proffered hand in the corner of her vision and realised that her doe-eyed sister was completely focussed on him, knelt next to her head. She looked between them, shocked and struck dumb by this possible confirmation of her worst fears. Matthew and Sybil…? It was only slightly less revolting than Matthew and Edith and yet somehow the thought of it caused her heart to thump in a more painful thud to her chest. Matthew and Edith were just preposterous, but Matthew and Sybil… Just what was going on here?

As the two stood up they seemed almost transfixed by each other- Sybil's gaze worshipful, Matthew's assessing. Assessing what? Her sister's beautiful hazel eyes? Her peaches and cream complexion? Her full, pouty lips? Her general desirability…or maybe just the wound on her head?

To distract them, and because it was a good idea, she began taking off her outer layer, glad now that Gwen had thought to bring it to her. "Here, wear my coat to cover the blood. You'll look more normal." And if she could return a more normal look to those reverential eyes, mores the better!

"Lean on me." Matthew commanded gently as he led the invalid from the room, undoing all of Mary's hard work as Sybil's adoring gaze refocused on her knight in tarnished armour. Did he want to be the object of a seventeen year old's crush? He certainly seemed to be making it easy for her.

Much to Mary's abject horror.

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><p><em>I hope you enjoyed it- please let me know. This one was a tough one for me and I'd love to hear your comment :D<em>


	14. Chapter 14

It was difficult to sit and wait comfortably while acknowledging how much, and how well, sound carried through this enormous house. Despite not having spent much time in the family wing, Matthew knew it was some distance from the hall in which he stood, and yet the bitter words from above reverberated off the walls around him more forcefully even than Sybil's head had bounced against the pavement.

Robert's roar was quite fearsome, and it reminded Matthew of the rare hidings he had received as a boy from his own father. Even so, he could hear Sybil's answering petulance ringing through the hallways just as loud and clearly. Sybil's strength lay not only in her political beliefs but also in her determination to do something with them. Given the state she had been in not an hour before he was surprised, and somewhat impressed, that she was still willing to take the naysayers on. Matthew's admiration was almost immediately tempered on hearing Sybil's threat to run away, admitting to himself that his young cousin had a lot of growing up to do. When that small, inevitable hurdle of time was cleared, he thought to himself, she would become quite fearsome herself.

Eventually the clamour died down and before long Robert and Mary appeared, looking far more serene than the previous cacophony would have suggested was possible. Indeed, Robert projected quite a light-hearted demeanour;

"I gather you're the shining knight in all this." The reminder of his actions brought the slight lingering discomfort in his hand to mind and he flexed his fingers, drawing it once more into a fist. He was rather proud of himself he realised, contemplating the residual pain, clearly the result of a highly unusual act. More used to fighting with words, Matthew had never been in a _real_ fight before- he fleetingly recalled a bit of a push-and-shove over a highly contested conker game from his days in short trousers- but knocking a man down and getting Sybil cared for, home and safely tucked up in bed, seemed momentarily like quite the achievement. If, as he suspected despite Robert's praise, the slight tussle could not be classified as a proper fight, it was, at least, as close as Matthew ever planned to get.

In the midst of his own self-satisfied thoughts he caught sight of Mary's patented eye-roll and any contented feelings he had left drained away completely. She was not pleased with him, and he was sure Sybil had relayed his role in her accident. He had momentarily allowed himself to forget that it was his part in the altercation that had ultimately been the cause of Sybil's fall and now he had to face the fact that her protective sister was unlikely to ever do likewise.

* * *

><p>In fact Mary had no idea of the role Matthew had played in Sybil's fall and was instead remembering her observation from earlier in the evening: Her father might imagine Matthew in gleaming armour, but she thought that he rather needed a good going over with the Silvo and a little Carson elbow grease. Almost despite herself, and her current anger, she battled to keep tight control on a sudden snort of amusement at the thought.<p>

On reflection, she realised, he was only actually tarnished in her eyes. Locked in a reverent gaze with her younger sister, his sense of honour and chivalry was clearly intact, the only problem was his apparent willingness to be _anyone's_ champion. It was all the reminder she needed of her past, of the way men worked, and, she tried desperately to persuade herself, precisely what she did not need in her life again.

Men. Did none of them have any sense? It was like they were going through some sort of silly season. Matthew, Branson, even her Papa, they were all ripe for ridicule that evening, and Mary was in a mood to lay in with abandon. Offered the incentive of another of her father's more ridiculous knee-jerk statements she took no prisoners; "Papa prefers the servants to read the Bible and letters from home," she drawled with heavy mocking, completely uncaring of her father's capacity for rage that had been on display only minutes earlier.

Anyone with any knowledge of Mary should have seen that she was best left alone at that point. She certainly was not in any mood for company and the last thing she wanted to do sit with Matthew while he tucked into his hero's banquet- fitting as it may be in the form of the most basic repast she could think of to request. Despite that, her father gave her little choice in accompanying her cousin to the dining room, staring her down when she moved to complain. Gracious little hostess she had been trained to be, she led the way to the dining room. Or, to put it more correctly, she stormed away, leaving Matthew to follow in her wake. _With any luck_, she thought, _they'll have forgotten to cut the crusts off. _The idea of watching him choke down the hard, unpalatable edging caused by Daisy's occasional inattention was as soothing to her current frame of mind. All she really wanted to do - go back upstairs, break something, and fall into a deep sleep until her brain was purged from thoughts of Matthew Crawley- would have to wait.

* * *

><p>The silence was awkward and the ticking of the mantel clock was beginning to get on Matthew's last nerve. It didn't help matters that Mary was tapping her finger nails against the table top in a manner of frustration, or anger, that he had never seen before from her, even in their earliest confrontations. The not quite on-, or off-, percussion beat threatened to bring on a migraine if he did not find something else to concentrate on soon.<p>

"We can drink to Sybil's safe return," he said with more muster than he felt, breaking the silence. Still the tapping did not stop, in fact the tempo of the staccato only increased.

"I'd rather not. Anyway, there's no glass." If her tone was cold, Mary decided, it only reflected the way she was feeling. In truth, she felt cold down to her bones, the rigour that one often feels in the beginning of an illness- the feeling that you cannot get warm on the inside, no matter how many layers you may wrap around your outside. If only she had had more layers to wrap around her outside, protecting her insides…

Matthew took her reluctance to drink with him, her very demeanour since they left Crawley House, as confirmation of the fact that she blamed him for Sybil's injury. If he could only get her to stay and have a drink with him, he'd have time to apologise and explain the events of the evening. "Never mind that," he replied, gesturing to his water glass. "Here," he poured despite her protests, "have a drink with me."

She sat back from the table, folding her arms over her stomach- a physical barrier between them. "I really don't think I want to. Anyway Sybil won't be down again this evening- it may be days before Mama is likely to let her out of bed, so you'll be able to leave as soon as you've had your fill."

He chanced an opening and leaned a little closer, smiling at her softly, sincerely; "It might be sometime before I have my fill of the company."

Still she would not look at him and her focus was distant, somewhere over his right shoulder, and disinterested. The awkward silence returned and the clock ticked on without the nail accompaniment this time. In some ways it was worse- now, without the movement it was like she had completely shut down. Shut him out, at least. Nervous of her behaviour, and not knowing whether it stemmed from sullenness or anger, he blurted out the first thing that came to him "Are you at all political?"

Jolted by the suddenness of his voice after the blessed silence, she rolled her eyes to him with a peevishness sneer that he hadn't been subjected to for a number of wonderfully long months. She scowled and fairly huffed out; "politics is like marriage- promises made at the beginning are quickly forgotten, and everyone wonders why the bride picked her groom. It's the same with all public officials."

If he hadn't know her past Matthew would have laughed, but it was said with such dismissive force that it was a few minutes more- minutes in which Mary gazed fixedly over his right shoulder, perfectly poised but as far away from him, physically as well as mentally, as her chair would allow- before Matthew tried anything again. This time, he decided, there was no point beating around the bush. "Look, you must know that I'm very sorry Sybil got hurt."

Still dismissive, but not with visibly increased anger she replied, "She'll be perfectly fine you know."

"Yes, but if it hadn't been for me…" he trailed off, shaking his head in regret.

"Yes, yes Matthew, you we're very brave," an eye-roll accompanied her deadpan voice. "We're all so grateful to you."

"No, you know what I mean… it's quite the opposite. I was the reason she got hurt. If I hadn't opened my smart mouth she'd be fine."

That drew her now startled, questioning gaze to him "What?! She only told me you knocked a man down."

"I thought you knew..." he replied, puzzled in that case at what was so clearly angering her.

She tutted loudly and looked away again, this time with studied indifference, watching her hand brush across the tablecloth- an unnecessary movement given an undue amount of attention. "Well, you'll shatter Sybil's romantic sensibilities if you tell her all _that_. You must be careful not to break her heart. I think she has a crush on you."

Matthew scoffed, but she continued before he had a chance to formulate a reply to her absurd notion. "If you laugh with her, flirt with her, as you do me I will expect you to do your duty by her. She doesn't know, as I do, what games men play and I won't have you leading her on."

Finally Matthew saw her mood, her jealousy, for what it really was and slowly, slowly like a fire kindled from wet wood, a smirk appeared across his face.

A smirk! When she finally looked up to see his reaction to her words she was incensed! How dare he! How dare he play with Sybil's feelings?! How dare he play with _her_ heart? Oh, but he was a cad! Just as bad as all the others…

She pushed up from her chair angrily, making to leave the room.

Her apparent ire spiked his, and he leapt to his feet behind her, tossing his napkin onto the table and jarring the cutlery. It was his tone rather than his words that stopped her in her tracks- low and filled with resentment, it was something she had never heard from him before, even in their early antagonistic days;

"I assume you speak in a spirit of mockery. First Edith and now Sybil," he paced to where she stood, glaring at the back of her neck, willing her to turn and face him if she was so determined to goad him into an argument. "You really do think I'm that desirable," he spat, his tone mocking, "that every woman I come into contact with would be falling over themselves for me. Don't worry, your mother and grandmother are safe from me."

"Are they? Is anyone? Edith was acting under orders- conforming to the fitness of things and doing what was expected of her, but I doubt Sybil is. She's young, she's a romantic and you punched someone for her. I'm only surprised she was knocked over, rather than swooning before she was carried in your arms…"

"Branson's arms."

"Branson's arms, then!" She snapped back. Finally she turned and advanced on him a pace, throwing her own arms into the air in frustration and to indicate the direction of her thoughts. "It's you she's up there dreaming about! From the minute she started to pin up her hair she's been looking for love- proper, romantic, happily-ever-after love. And in all that time I've tried to tell her what to be careful of- where the lies are, where the hurt comes from."

There was a hint of rage in his voice, now. "Then you can't imagine that any minor infatuation with me will move her in the slightest. Or _me_ for that matter! Don't try and put me in the same category as Patrick, Mary, I don't deserve it." He turned from her and some of the fight went out of him. "Not from you. You, of all people, should have more faith in me, especially when I'm trying to help you. Especially when I…" He tailed off, his hand raking through his hair in frustration.

"When you, what?"

"Don't _play_ with me!" He whirled back to her, his anger returning to mask his sudden and at once all-encompassing despair. She had likened him to Patrick. It was then that he realised the extent of this argument- one that had seemingly come from nowhere- and what it meant for them. What it meant for his endlessly frustrated hopes.

"What are you accusing me of?" she demanded. "How am I playing with you?"

"_You know_! You must know, and yet you want me to spell it out. I suppose then you'll have the choicest of remarks to ridicule me with, just as you did when I arrived here? For a while I really did begin to think we were on the same page, but perhaps you were right when you said I should pay no attention to the things you say…or do…or seem to feel!"

"Matthew I really have no idea what you are talking about!" By this point they were practically nose to nose.

"I love you!" He fairly shouted at her, his own pulse and heavy breathing now drowning out the tick of the clock in the sudden, jarring quiet.

And she kissed him.

Initially their lips met with a furious passion, both of them pouring the lingering anger of misunderstanding and prejudice into the kiss, the desperate hurt of moments ago gradually overwhelmed by growing joy. Hands that had initially clutched desperately at a collar, or grasped at a thin waist, slowly released and began to move higher, caressing, smoothing and twisting as lips softened, became gentler and the kiss sweetened, becoming a tender thing of mutual joy and blossoming feelings.

It was something Mary had never expected to feel again. If she had been able to think straight, she would have realised it was something she had never felt before either, although she was well practiced at the act. It was wonderful, _he_ was wonderful and she was compelled to move closer- to feel _more _of him, to _give_ more of herself.

As Mary shifted against him, Matthew pulled her closer, tucking her against his body more fully, sliding his hands around her back to cradle her softly as hers slid from his hair to around his neck. The now gentle movement of their lips came to a natural conclusion and he drew back slightly to look at her, his eyes darting endlessly between hers because they were pressed so closely together. All the fight was gone from both of them and only sudden contentment could be found in its place. "Marry me," he breathed.

She stared at him for a moment, her brain far from able to process his demand. "What?"

"Marry me," he repeated, slightly louder. Firmer. With more conviction.

She smiled in delighted amusement. "My, what did they put in those sandwiches?"

He smiled in return, tipping to press his forehead against hers. "I'm serious, Mary. I want you to marry me."

She quirked an eyebrow, which he felt against his own and promptly pressed a kiss to. "And yet you don't want to ask me, you're just going to tell me what to do."

Lips still pressed against her furrowed brow, his reply was no less fierce for being muffled. "Yes, because it's right. Why make it a question when nothing could be more right?"

And she tilted her head back and kissed him again.

This time it progressed, and quickly. After mere seconds she opened her mouth to him, inviting him in, her arms running the length of his as his slipped lower this time- the small of her back, and then dipping and rising with the delicious curve he found there.

Reaching his collar, her hands smoothed down his front, running over buttons and stroking at silk. There was so much strength hidden here, and she wanted to feel it all. She wanted him, wanted to be his…

…and he had just proposed. She could be his. Her knees buckled at the thought, and his hands slid low, catching her, cradling her at the back of her thighs and pulling her even further into him. She groaned low in her throat, once more caught in the moment, her thoughts falling away again...

…but now he was falling away, too, pulling away from her and panting desperately for breath. "My darling…"

She smiled up at him in wonder. "Matthew…"

"Mary, my darling, we need to stop."

Her smile turned naughty- there was no other word for it, and Matthew couldn't not kiss her again.

Lost in her once again, his mind was disengaged from his body as she led his hand from its place on her waist to cup her rib cage, to cup her…

He broke away quickly, watching his mutineering hand fall slowly back to a sham of propriety at her waist. He gave her a squeeze for good measure once he was not - _there - _in that place where he could get into all sorts of trouble. "You're not very fastidious about doing things properly, are you?"

Mary drew back further from him then, acknowledging his retreat. She still had a delighted, teasing smile on her face, but the question clear in her eyes. "Are you?"

"More than you might think. You see, Mary…I think we should wait."

This was taken with slightly less grace. She frowned in confusion. "Really, Matthew, I've been married before, it's not like it would be my first time."

"No, I know. You see the thing is that…" he trailed off on a shuddering breath. "…it would be mine."

Mary closed her eyes, inwardly berating herself. Of course. Of course he had never been with a woman, any woman, before. This was _Matthew_- proper, uptight, up_right_, sweet, adorable _Matthew_. Who wanted, fastidiously, to do things properly with her. Opening her eyes again to find him nervously studying her face she gave him a gentle, happy smile. "You really aren't like him, are you?"

His answering smile was happy, too, and he was reassuringly firm in his answer. "No."

In that moment, his shining countenance and earnest goodness made her realise she had to be completely honest with him. If they were to…to _marry_…if she was to be _married_, to _anyone_, _again_, there would be no secrets and no lies.

She took a deep breath and looked straight into his face, ready to open herself up to him in this way. "You really aren't like…_them_, are you."

Matthew's eyebrows rose, but there was no condemnation in his gaze, only perplexity. "_Them?_"

"There was another. I mean, it was nothing, but…you should know. There has been someone else. Just once."

"While you were marri…"

Knowing Matthew, and seeing where his thoughts were leading him, she raced to cut him off. "No! No, after. After."

Matthew couldn't cover the fact that he was relieved, and they shared a small smile in understanding. As a widow she was entitled to keep her own council on such matters, but she was honest with him- and he had long thought that she was defined by her honesty. Even though he would have understood her infidelity in a marriage such as hers, she had kept her vows and that meant something to him. "And he is…gone now? Out of your life?"

"Yes." Her answer was firm, and she hoped he never wondered how she could be so certain.

"Then it's in the past. You've had that life, and now I want you with me while I live mine. We'll live a very different life- together."

She nodded, and looked down. This was difficult. As much as she wanted to make him, and herself, happy, the reminder of Patrick and of Pamuk had brought her back to earth with a bump. "I want to, Matthew, but you must give me some time. To contemplate marriage again…" he began to interrupt, but she forestalled him, cupping his cheek in her hand "…even when I know that it will be different. You need to give me some time."

He stepped back from her. "Of course."

She grabbed his hand as he moved to put even more distance between them. "It's not a no," she assured hurriedly, worried that her hesitation was taken the wrong way.

He smiled, and stepped back in, kissing her reverently on her furrowed brow. "I know," he whispered against her skin, "I'm counting on it." Then he was gone, striding quickly from the room and away from the temptation he felt to let her lead him wherever she wanted to go.

* * *

><p>She had waited at least half an excruciating hour and still Mary was not sure the flush had left her cheeks fully. She needed to speak to her mother, but Lady Grantham had been acting strangely all week and, even if she hadn't, this was something that had to be handled carefully. Timing was everything- O'Brien needed to have left, but her father couldn't be there. Not yet. If her mama was still under any illusion that Edith and Matthew should be together it would be better to get her to see things clearly as soon as possible.<p>

Cora looked up from her book at the creaking of the door, and felt guilt and shame flood her as it had all week on seeing Mary. "Has Matthew gone?"

"Yes."

Cora watched her daughter settle on the bed. It had been a long time since Mary had last sought her out like this. Before she had become officially engaged to Patrick, even. Thinking back with a sigh, Cora recollected that the last time her eldest sat on her bed and spoke to her properly they had been discussing the colour of her sash for her court presentation. Since then Edith had made her curtsey, and now Sybil, who had been little more than a scamp when Mary was presented, was making her own preparations.

In that time Mary had spent two years in a miserable excuse for a marriage, with a miserable excuse for a husband, and more than two more as a widow. Now that she was aware of it Cora would not soon allow herself to forget. She had been so blind for so long but now, given the rare opportunity to study Mary alone and unguarded, Cora found herself surprised; it was curious that now she had an inkling of what had been going on with her daughter, Mary suddenly didn't look at all like a woman who had suffered, and was suffering, the fallout of an awful relationship. Frankly, this evening she glowed.

Without knowing how to press her daughter on any of the thoughts racing through her head, Cora settled on what was meant to be a triviality, knowing that if Mary had sought her out in this way, she had something particular to say and was unlikely to leave it unsaid for long. "Thank the lord he was there. I hope you thanked him properly."

Mary looked away somewhat sheepishly. Oh, how she had wanted to! _If only he'd let her! _she thought with amused wryness, feeling a shiver of pleasure shoot up her spine. "I got them to make him some sandwiches…"she hedged.

"Sandwiches," her mother scoffed in return, chuckling gently. "Well I hope they put something in them suitable for our hero."

"I dare say they were much appreciated."

"Well, it was nice of you to stay down and keep him company."

"I thought it was important- I couldn't leave him all alone after everything he's done, that would hardly be a suitable thank you. And, in the end I suppose we both deserved some time with…," she hesitated, capturing her mother's gaze, trying to will her to understand. "…the person we love."

It took a moment, a matter of seconds or minutes- Mary couldn't tell, before her mother's eyes widened in shock. It was a further, similar moment of silence before anything was said and when Cora finally found she could talk, her question was barely more than a hesitant, raspy whisper. "And you…do you _love_ Matthew?"

"Yes."

"And he loves _you_?" Mary decided not to take offence at the question and the tone. Instead she allowed herself to be amused that her mother could still be so wrong.

"Yes. And he's asked me to marry him."

Mary eagerly awaited the reaction to _this_ surprising statement, but it was nowhere near as violent, or comical this time, just a slow blink. "Well. My dear. Have you given him an answer?"

"Only that I'd think about it."

She really didn't know this girl of hers at all. When did Mary become so complicated? Where did all this secrecy come from? "Is there so much to think about? You just told me you love each other."

"Well for one thing," Mary breezed, "I know you want Edith to marry him, so that's a minor consideration."

Edith. Oh, what was she going to do about _Edith_? "What we want doesn't matter, I suppose." She saw Mary's sceptical look. "At least, it's not all that matters."

"That's not what I was led to believe when I was ordered to marry Patrick," Mary ground out with some bitterness.

"Yes well, perhaps what I wanted should never have mattered…Mary, I've heard some things…things about Patrick. My darling, why did you never _tell_ me?"

Now it was Mary's turn to look stunned. This was not the way she had envisioned this conversation going. So, her mother finally knew. Exactly _what_ she knew didn't really matter- Mary was sure she didn't know everything- but whatever it was, it was enough for her to finally admit that they had been wrong.

Despite her surprise, her reply was instantaneous. This was a conversation she had had mentally with either one of her parents over and over after all. "_Tell_ you, Mama? I told you time and time again. Why didn't you _see_ it?!" Mary bit out, keeping back the majority of her anger.

_She's right_, thought Cora, hearing that same, familiar bitterness in her daughter's voice that was always there whenever they spoke of Patrick. _It was right there all the time._ Knowing the truth, she found different meanings in the things Mary said over the years and, she realised with shame, her ever honest- sometimes brutally honest- daughter had been telling her the truth about Patrick and her own unhappiness for years.

"Oh, my darling girl," Cora reached to embrace her, her face crumpling with tears, but Mary was having none of it. She jumped up from the bed and began to pace the room.

"No!" she was fuming now. "You don't get to be upset about this and I'm certainly not going to comfort, or be comforted by you."

"Oh my darling…" Cora tried reaching for her hand again, letting her own drop to the bedspread as Mary purposefully strode to the end of the bed. She gasped as she tried to control her tears, hurt by, and for, her justifiably livid daughter. "You blame us?" she heaved out. It was her worst fear, and yet the way their conversation had unfolded, she already knew the answer.

"Yes, and I think perhaps I've wanted you to know it, too. I think I may have done for much longer than you can possibly know."

"But we thought we were doing the right thing," she pleaded for understanding. Mary scoffed. "We thought it was the answer to every one of our prayers and… we thought that you could be happy"

"Well, Mama," Mary fairly spat in return, "it was the embodiment of every one of my nightmares!" Now she was also holding back tears. "And because of that, even telling Matthew- a good man, a man that any girl would wish for and accept in a heartbeat, that I would think about marriage again is an advance on what it would have been a year ago."

The door on the other side of the room clicked, signalling the entrance of her father, and Mary whipped around to fully face her mother, compelling her with a look to hold her silence. She scrubbed hastily at her eyes and cheeks, and made sure her back was to him as she began her retreat, bidding them both a loud goodnight. Moving closer to the door, keeping her father behind her, she lowered her voice so that only her mother would be able to hear. "I was smart, insisting we slept in separate rooms, but I always secretly wanted a marriage like yours, where the bed was only ever made up in the dressing room to pretend you slept apart. If that's all there ever is with Matthew it would be enough, and I deserve at least that."

She clearly heard her mother's voice catch in her throat as she pulled the door shut. Her father's questioning, comforting rumble was less distinct as she moved down the corridor towards her own room.

* * *

><p><em>I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. My notes always seem to be made up of endless excuses about update speeds but to be fair this has been the craziest year of my life and since the last chapter I have moved to my second new job and city inside of this year! On the (sort of) plus side I have no friends here yet, so lots of long, lonely winter evenings may make for faster updates, you never know.<em>

_I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know your thoughts._


	15. Chapter 15

_For everyone who asked for more- sorry it's taken so long. The motivation is not what it used to be :(_

* * *

><p>"What do you have there, Matthew? You're not working at this time of night, surely?" Isobel tutted as she looked over her novel at her son who sat in his shirt-sleeves, bent over his date book and several pieces of paper instead of sitting in his armchair in his usual after dinner repose with a book of his own.<p>

Matthew looked at her without raising his head, offering a rueful smile, his hair flopping forward into his eyes. He reminded her so much of the times he would come home from University, his hair slightly too long through lack of attention during the term, studying despite the holidays to get a good start on the coming exam season. _Time for a trim_ she thought, making a mental note to mention it to Molesley in the morning.

"No, it's not work, Mother. I asked Cousin Cora to make me up a sort of diary of the main events the family would be attending this Season. I won't be going for everything, of course, but there are some things I'd like to attend and some things I've been requested for." He batted ineffectually at the hair in his eyes, brushing it away just to have it fall forward again. _Definitely time for a trim._ "Is there anything in particular you'd like to go to?"

His mother merely raised her eyebrows. "You're taking this all very seriously. You weren't half so interested last year."

She watched him shift slightly in his seat, fidgeting. "Well, there wasn't so much to be interested _in_ last year."

Isobel pursed her lips. "You mean Mary?"

Matthew turned back to his notes, uncomfortable with his mother's questions and the mildly disapproving look on her face. Again. "I _mean _Sybil's first season, her ball. We didn't get to see Mary or Edith's debuts- I'd like to be there for Sybil."

Isobel's eyebrows climbed higher. She knew when her son was keeping something from her. "And?"

"…and," he signed heavily, hating how transparent he was. "Mary has asked me to be her escort to a number of events."

She nodded succinctly, she had suspected as much, but she continued to appraise him. "Is that so? Well, what are you going to, then?"

"Well, Sybil's ball, naturally."

"Naturally. Of course I shall want to go to that as well."

"I thought I wouldn't go for her presentation, as such- it will be very late, she'll spend the day with the ladies and it's not like we could be present anyway. Even Robert said he'll spend the day at the club and only be around for a late supper-or breakfast- afterwards, depending on what time she gets seen."

"When is her ball?"

"Three days later. We'll see her then?"

"Yes, that sounds like the best plan. So what did Mary want an _escort_ to?"

"Mother, you make it sound as if that's all she'll want. I'm hoping she'll want to spend some time with me, too."

Isobel harrumphed. "Well, if she really wanted to spend some time with you, she'd give you an answer- and the right one, at that. Any other girl would have jumped on your proposal."

Matthew just shook his head in dismay. How many times did they have to have this argument? "Mother, she's still in mourning for her late husband and that marriage wasn't completely…right. She's hesitant to try again and just needs some time."

Still somewhat po-faced, Isobel relented a little. "Very well. So long as _you_ understand it."

Matthew rolled his eyes, smirking at her protectiveness. "Anyway, Mary has particularly asked me to go with her to the Derby and Ascot. Then there are a few balls she'd like me to attend- friends she wants to introduce me to and others where she'd more particularly like a friendly face around."

"It sounds to me like she's taking advantage- using you as her fiancée without giving you an answer. These horse events- they're not your sort of thing."

He shrugged, pushing himself upright. "No, not really, but I can enjoy the races as much as the next person. It's a shame we've had to miss the National, what with it being so much closer to home, but that's another day I'll be able to take for London. They're being awfully good about it all at work you know, but I don't want to take the mickey."

His mother was curious; "Have they said how many days they will give you?"

"Not really- Mr Carter just said to give them plenty of notice, there is always paperwork that can come with me to London."

She nodded, well aware of how much time he seemed to spend on paperwork during his off hours. "You don't want to go to the boat race?"

"Not really my bag as I didn't attend either institution (1). Unless they both sink again (2), of course- that would be something to see. Robert's a light blue; I assume he'll go with the family if they want to attend. Henley I could do without as well but I thought we might all go down to Cowes. A little holiday, what do you think?"

"Oh, Matthew, yes! That would be wonderful if we can manage it."

"I also thought I might make Mary sit through a day or two at Lord's with me, make up for all those horse events," he said, contemplating the idea with a rueful smile.

"I should hope so to," his mother said firmly, happy her boy was at least going to have his way in something. Or at least try to.

"Is there anything else you'd like to come to?" He asked again, returning his focus to the pages in front of him.

Isobel pondered the question this time. "Well, if I can take some time from the hospital perhaps I'll join you at the Derby and I wouldn't mind seeing some tennis."

"Wimbledon?" He checked the list. "It looks like the family will take seats on a number of days but according to this, Cousin Cora is only committing them to the finals. I'll mention that you're interested so there should be no problems there when you want to go."

"Are the Proms going ahead? All that business with Edgar Speyer (3)…" she tutted.

Matthew shook his head, not knowing the answer but also in dismay of what people would do to each other in the name of nationalism. Things were increasingly worrying, especially in London where the press were really whipping people up. "I'm not sure, but when we're in London we can ask. I suppose we'll have to wait and see what happens."

Isobel smiled with pleasure at the prospect of the summer ahead- it was shaping up to be a pleasant one. "Yes, let's see what happens once we get to London."

* * *

><p>"Matthew! My dear fellow, how was your journey?" Robert beamed as he turned from welcoming Isobel to her son who followed her into Grantham House.<p>

"Robert," they shook hands as Matthew removed his hat, nearly knocking over a maid that was carry a large floral arrangement at speed across the hallway. "I'm sorry that we are later than I said we'd be- we missed our connection at Crewe."

"Never mind, never mind, you're here now." Robert was fairly bouncing in excitement and welcome, his enthusiasm adding to the hum of activity through the house. Gilchrest, the London butler, took Matthew's top coat and hat before turning to harry the footman into bringing the cases in faster. Apparently they were needed elsewhere. Robert motioned them through to the drawing-room as the bustle increased, side stepping another maid and a hall boy, carrying a large mirror between them. By comparison to the frenzied hallway the drawing-room was an oasis of calm.

Matthew and Isobel sat on one of the sofas as Robert moved towards the drinks table. "Where is the girl…" Matthew exchanged a rueful smile with Robert. "I'm sorry, woman. Where is the _woman_ of the hour?"

Robert passed a small glass of sherry to Isobel before returning to splash a finger of scotch into tumblers for himself and Matthew. "Sybil and Edith spent the night at Mary's and will get ready there. It's a little tradition they started with Edith's ball, I'm not really sure why they do it but Mary was insistent with both girls."

"I suppose it gives a certain sense of occasion," Isobel suggested brightly. "A bit of independence, it will make Sybil feel so grown up to make an entrance at her own ball, rather than being here and getting anxious about all the preparations. Everybody seems to be working hard but how are they going? I would ask Cousin Cora, but…"

Robert picked up when she trailed off. "Yes, Cora's with the girls for luncheon, so I imagine she felt everything was progressing well enough for her to take a break. She'll be back this afternoon for finishing touches and then I imagine she'll disappear upstairs to do whatever it is women do to prepare for a ball."

"Not me, I'm afraid, at least not for the whole afternoon. I'm going to pop to the Royal Academy for a couple of hours while I have the chance of it. I'm not sure what I'd do with six hours to get myself ready." She turned to include her son. "Would you like to join me, Matthew?"

"Actually…" he hesitated, looking towards the bright window and then back at his mother. "I thought I might go for a walk. All that sitting on the train, you know?" his attempt at complacency did not fool his audience at all not matter how earnest his expression as he looked between them. Both of the parents exchanged amused glances.

"I trust you remember the way to Leigh Street?" Robert's knowing smirk caused Matthew to blush and look down at his hands in embarrassment.

"I do, thank you. Will I be in the way, do you think?" Matthew asked, not able to look back up at his tormentors. Yes, he was excited to see Mary again- they hadn't been in the same room since Easter. Thank goodness Sybil was in one of the first court sittings otherwise he wouldn't have seen her until the Derby at the end of the month!

While he didn't _really_ care who knew how anxious he was to see Mary, he would like to be slightly less transparent in his romantic pursuits. Especially to their parents. The least they could do would be to not find so much enjoyment in it at his expense.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. Twenty-four hours together in a much smaller house…" Robert shook his head in dismay. "Edith and Mary will be driving each other mad by this point, if one of them isn't dead, so a little distraction might be a good idea. No, no, off you go, my boy. Just be sure you give them enough time later to dress- however long that might be."

* * *

><p>Matthew was shown into the drawing-room of Mary's home. Given the time, 3pm almost exactly, he had expected to find the ladies at tea but on finding the room empty, he turned back to Mary's sour-faced butler, Barnes.<p>

"I will inform Lady Mary that you are here, _sir_," the small man drawled, and Matthew wasn't quite sure he liked the man's tone. It oozed with smarm and insincerity- a tone that wouldn't have been out of place on Thomas on occasion. "But I'm in no way certain she'll see you. It's a busy day as I'm sure you can appreciate, _sir_."

Without waiting for a reply, the servant left the room, leaving Matthew taken aback by his attitude. Snapping out of his dismay, he turned to look about the room. He'd been here before, but Mary had done some redecorating in the last year and a new Stubbs hung over the fireplace. Becoming lost in the intricacies of the work he didn't hear her until she was behind him, standing a little closer than propriety allowed.

"Papa bought it for _my_ coming out," she murmured softly, practically into his ear.

His breath caught in his throat and for a moment he couldn't turn, not yet. As much as he wanted to see her, he needed composure first and after a month of absence he was struggling and reveling in equal measure in her proximity. He swallowed thickly. "It looks like Diamond."

"I know." She leaned even closer and he could feel her breath stirring the hairs at the back of his neck. "My darling boy." She breathed, and he could hear the grin in her voice, now- the double entendre had become something of a running joke between them, and she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

A clearing of the throat stopped him short from either grabbing her up in his arms or fainting dead away into hers, he wasn't sure which, but it seemed that Mary didn't waiver. "Thank you, Barnes. You may go," she said, smoothly. He heard footsteps and then the click of the door as she continued; "For no good reason Patrick always hated it, and so I had it moved in here to prime position. Took down that awful Walter Sickert that he liked so much. Do you remember it?"

Matthew shook his head.

"Well, she looked at little…_too comfortable_ in my home_._"

Now Matthew turned his head to look at her, his eyebrows raised. "Oh she was clothed, thankfully. You probably would have remembered if she hadn't been, but still…" she made a face and Matthew laughed turning fully towards her now and taking her into his arms. In a rush of motion he sweetly kissed the sour expression from her face before pulling back to gaze at her for a long moment.

"Hello, darling," he murmured moments later, his eyes still drifting over her now smooth, flushed face, taking in all the details, relishing being with her again.

"Matthew," Mary breathed, slowly allowing her eyes to drift closed as she felt a wash of calm drive away the mania of The London Season for a moment or two.

She kept her eyes closed as he kissed her again but when she had him back in focus, she found Matthew grinning down at her. "I don't like your butler."

She snorted a laugh, pushing her face into his shoulder. "I don't either. He's still terribly loyal to his former master."

Matthew rocked her a little in his arms. "So why do you keep him on?"

Still pressed against him, but now with her chin tilted to look up at him, she sighted wearily. "Because Carson wouldn't work for Patrick. Because I'm not here enough to worry about him. Because he still does his job well enough."

"He told me you probably wouldn't see me." He pouted for effect.

She grinned. "Then he's an idiot who's sailing perilously close to the wind. I hope you didn't believe him."

"Well I thought you'd at least come down and say hello, but you must be busy with Sybil. Where were you all?"

"Final dress adjustments. Everything's nearly ready, and I'm mostly done, so I have some time..."

The tap on the door that followed almost immediately belied her words. Springing from the impropriety of their embrace, Matthew turned quickly to study the picture again while Mary faced the door, reaching up to smooth her hair awkwardly as she called for the knocker to enter.

To Anna it was immediately clear that she had interrupted _something_ and she blushed, smiling at Mary. "I'm sorry, my lady," she stammered, fiddling with the length of ribbon in her hands.

Mary shook her head, covering a few paces to talk to the trusted maid. "It's fine, Anna. What is it?"

"I found this in a box of your old dresses upstairs, and I thought, while it's not exactly the colour we're looking for, it might work well as a contrast shade."

Mary took a closer look at the ribbon in question and Matthew, intrigued, turned to see what they were discussing. "It's perfect, Anna, thank you. Is there enough?" she asked doubtfully, studying the length.

"There are another two pieces about the same. Mrs Henderson thinks it'll do."

The door opened again, this time without the proceeding knock or invitation to enter. "Did you find her, Anna?" Edith's voice preceded her into the room. "Oh, Mary, there you are. And Cousin Matthew. So this is what you were called away for _so_ _urgently_?"

"Yes Edith," Mary replied, hard-won patience clear in her tone. "A visitor in my home generally demands my attention. Did you need something?"

"I just wanted to know if Anna had found you. Mrs Henderson is ready for the final pieces and we'd have to go and buy something if you weren't happy with that gold."

"It's fine. Please have Mrs Henderson finish so that Anna has time to press," Anna and Mary exchanged nods of acknowledgement. "How is Sybil doing?"

"She's fine," Edith breezed. "She fussed a little more about the train, but really, it's less than half the length of the one on the presentation gown so you'd think she'd be used to it by now."

"Well she didn't have to dance in the presentation dress. I remember you tripping at your ball- Bertie Hamilton had to hold you up. Granny thought you'd had too much champagne."

Edith looked affronted. "Matilda Hinds barged me- I certainly didn't trip on my train and I hadn't had too much to drink!"

Mary raised an eyebrow in amused disdain. "Mattie Hinds was on the balcony with Edward Fletcher at the time- his wife nearly caught them and Patrick diverted her- I know, because I watched him leave off flirting with Valerie Chapman to do so. There is no way that she barged past you," Edith huffed. "I suppose the fact that that Chapman girl disappeared with Patrick soon after is neither here nor there. Practice the Viennese Waltz with Sybil in her dress- we don't need her tying herself up in knots."

"But I hate being the boy; you always make me be the boy." Matthew caught Anna's eye and both onlookers had to look away quickly for fear of laughing. Dear Edith, if she'd have been any younger Matthew thought she would have stamped her foot. "Why can't you practice with her?"

"Because Matthew's here and he's my guest- I can't just abandon him."

Brightening, Edith seized on this statement, once more aware that he was in the room. "Matthew's here! Matthew can dance with Sybil. He'll have to tonight, anyway." She turned and regarded him closely. "You may as well make sure she can dance well enough in her dress not to step on your toes," she reasoned.

Mary turned and sized him up and seeing the expression of expectation on her face he sighed in defeat. His mother was right; he'd do almost anything for this woman. Even things he _really_ didn't want to.

* * *

><p>Sybil looked magnificent in her dress- a rose gown with cream adornments- even with her hands on her hips and a snarl on her face. Matthew couldn't really see how the gold ribbons were going to augment it, but perhaps her hair? The amount Matthew knew about women's fashion could be written on the back of a postage stamp, but he knew what he liked and his young cousin looked far too grown-up, and he despaired at the thought of her presented to <em>men<em> as ready for marriage!

It was a concept that struck him as particularly bizarre as he watched her pout and argue with her sister, the whine now clear in her voice.

"I don't believe even you know what you mean!"

"Oh Sybil, honestly," Mary sighed. "You need to sort of… sweep the train out behind you using your hips so that it doesn't get underfoot."

Matthew looked on from his place, sitting indecorously on the stairs- the hall being the only place big enough for them to dance, if they ever got that far- and watched as Sybil swiveled her hips, the train of her gown rippling but certainly not _sweeping_ anywhere.

Mary stepped forward from where she had been leaning against the telephone table and turned, placing herself a little in front of Sybil, her back to her and Matthew. "It's a bigger movement and to either one side or the other, not both," she tutted. Matthew watched, mesmerised, as she cocking her hip to the left, pushed her _derrière _out and then slowly rolled her hips in the other direction as if sweeping a train behind her.

She turned to the side. "Now you try it," she commanded sharply, every bit the school ma'am of his youth- right down to the frankly adolescent reaction she provoked in him, similar to that of Miss Greene whom all the boys had attended to with uncharacteristic keenness when she was at the blackboard…

Sybil moved so that both girls stood facing one another, repeating the move, cocking and rolling their hips. Matthew barely registered as Sybil's dress swept the floor behind her, far too busy concentrating on the _sweep_ of _Mary's_ behind…

"…Matthew! _Matthew!"_ he snapped to attention to find all four girls looking at him. Apparently, Edith and Anna had finished their consultation with Mrs Henderson and re-joined them in the hall while he had been...elsewhere with his thoughts.

Mary's look, along with her tone, was sharp, if somewhat frazzled- very different to the image he'd been enjoying in his mind's eye. "Do you need a nap?"

He cleared his throat loudly, jumping up from the bottom stair. "No, sorry. I was miles away for a minute there. Are you ready for me?" Mary rolled her eyes, and turned away, but Sybil stepped up to him and he smiled as he took her into hold.

"This must seem fairly ridiculous to you," Sybil said as she successfully swept her train to the right as they began to twirl. To her satisfaction she found that the continuous turns of the dance meant that she got up some momentum and didn't have to work so hard at it.

"A little, but I'll do whatever I can to help. Do you find it ridiculous?"

"Well, it is helping, so thank you, and because of that it's quite frankly one of the least ridiculous things about this whole palaver," she replied with a heavy sigh.

Matthew shifted his focus from over her right shoulder to her face. "I thought you'd been looking forward coming out."

"I'm looking forward to the freedom it will give me. It will be nice not to be invisible anymore and I'm sure I'll quite like the parties, too," she grinned, and he returned it, enjoying her guilelessness. "But really, the presentation? Hours and hours of learning to curtsy and walk backwards, in the most ridiculous outfit, I might add, only to wait around until midnight to genuflect to people who couldn't have cared less or looked more bored if they tried."

Matthew chuckled. "Careful, Sybil. That's the King and Queen you're speaking of. You're lucky they can't hear you or you'd be tried for treason."

She wrinkled her nose. "They'd have to catch me first. Of course even then the absurdities aren't over- there's still Queen Charlotte's ball, where tradition dictates I have to curtsy to a _cake_."

"Sybil, we've been through this before- it's the person _presenting_ the cake that you're honouring, not the cake itself," Edith called out, as they spun past her.

Sybil rolled her eyes and lowered her voice, "perhaps the cake will show more graciousness as I prostrate myself." Pulling out of hold, but keeping hold of his hand to make it look like part of the dance, she dropped low to the floor, aping her mother's American accent: _'Straight in the back, drop the head so as not to catch the eye.'_ Her partner attempted to hide his laughter as she moved back into hold and they danced on.

A few minutes later Sybil decided she had the hang of it or that she'd had enough- Matthew wasn't sure which. "Mary, can't we finish now? I feel a little sick and we've been at this far longer than any piece of music." She began to resist Matthew's lead and stopped them from spinning.

Mary looked on approvingly. "Very well, you're doing well enough with the train. Do you think you have it?"

"I'm sure it'll be fine." She turned back to her partner, holding her skirt as if to curtsy again. "What do you say, Matthew? Can I dance well enough in it?"

"Very prettily. In fact, may I take this opportunity to request a dance, Lady Sybil?" Matthew bowed with mock seriousness.

Sybil giggled and performed her obeisance. "Of course. I have to open the ball with Papa, but perhaps the second?"

"I'd be delighted." Matthew grinned and bowed again to his young cousin before turning to Edith. "And Lady Edith?"

Edith blushed prettily, and fairly beamed. "Why, yes. Perhaps we could…"

Matthew realised his error in leaving the invitation open. He had no interest in opening the ball with Edith.

He cut in, not letting her finish. "After I have danced with the woman of the moment," he indicated Sybil. "Perhaps you'll give me the third dance." Edith nodded and looked away, her smile dropping.

His duty to his cousins discharged, Matthew turned to the other end of the hall where he found, and was captured by, Mary's ardent gaze.

* * *

><p>Mary was nearly overcome watching him with her sisters- behaving exactly as an elder brother, or brother-in-law should. He was so very wonderful that her eyes nearly brimmed over with the emotions he stirred, even in his day-to-day, easy interactions with those that were so dear to her. Yes, even Edith. He was so very different to what she had known before. The tenderness. Oh, how she was soothed by his tenderness.<p>

After a moment she felt she was able to speak without the threat of happy tears betraying all that she felt. Not taking her eyes from his, she cleared her throat gently. "Well then. Anna, please take Sybil upstairs and help her out of the dress. I want it pressed again before tonight. Edith, can you please make sure everything is finished and finalised with Mrs Henderson?"

The girls drifted towards their assigned tasks as Mary walked towards Matthew, their gazes still locked. When they were alone again she was in front of him. "What about me? Don't you want to dance with me?" she asked, softly.

He smiled sadly. "My darling, I always want to dance with you." He reached a hand out and ran it along her lapel. The lapel of her grey and black dress. "But if you can't dance, if you're determined to wait for the full two years since the public memorial, then I'll wait with you and I'll sit out the first. I'd sit them all out, but that wouldn't honour Sybil properly."

"Oh Matthew." She moved into his arms, kissing him tenderly. "You'd really miss the first dance for me? You could dance it with Cousin Isobel."

"Mother can wait until later… and I'm finding out pretty quickly that I'd do many things for you."

Mary quirked a brow, her teasing smirk lightening the moment. "Really? Well, what do you suggest I ask for now?"

He thought for a moment. "How about a dance? Here. Now." As he spoke Matthew swept her into his arms, twirling her about the room, much as he had just done to Sybil- only pressed little closer, gazing a little more ardently.

Mary's initial scream turned into a giggle as she found her footing, her pleasure increasing as she realised what a good dance partner Matthew was, but her mirth fading as she realised how much time they had wasted not being able to learn about each other in this way. Deciding to enjoy the moment, she relaxed into him and allowed him to move them about the small space- allowing herself to be led by the whims of a man- something she had vowed once never to do again.

Eventually he brought them to a standstill, their breathing heavy, their heads spinning with the effects of the dance and each other. She leaned heavily into him, her head resting on his shoulder for a moment, listening to his racing heart, before she lifted it to press a kiss to his open mouth. For a brief moment in time their mouths parodied all the dances that had been denied to them, twisting and twirling, separating and coming together to hold and embrace.

The interruption, when it inevitably came some time later, was down to poor Anna again who had stood at the bottom of the stairs, shuffling uncomfortably for some time before realising she would have to disturb them. She cleared her throat…and then again, slightly louder.

They parted and Mary whirled on Anna, checking her anger when she saw the embarrassment on the poor girls face. "Yes Anna, what is it?"

"I'm sorry…again… my lady, but Lady Sybil says she won't sit for her hair until you're there to advise her."

Mary nodded but rolled her eyes in agitation. "Very well, I'll be up in a moment." Anna retreated hastily upstairs as Mary turned back to Matthew. "I'll have to see you later."

"I'll be the one in the black suit, white tie," he smirked at her as she threaded her arm through his to walk him to the front door.

She rolled her eyes again, playfully scornful. "That'll narrow it down a bit. I'll head for the first young man of that description, shall I?"

"I will be waiting at the entrance with your father, ready to greet you. So yes, you may. I will, of course, be on the lookout for a ravishing woman in black."

As they reached the door Mary pulled him round to face her, smiling up into his eyes. "You just keep your eyes peeled- there may be any number of women in black and I wouldn't want you chasing after some misapprehension." She kissed him briefly in farewell, and in a moment he was on his way.

* * *

><p><em>Notes (if you want any other notes please let me know): <em>

_1) I know fandom often has Matthew going up to Oxbridge but I think he's just as likely (if not more so) to have gone to the Victoria University of Manchester unless there's a canon note I've missed. I know that Isobel told Ethel that '…Mr Crawley went to a famous school and university,' but really, what would that have meant to Ethel- necessarily Oxbridge?_

_2) In the 'Boat Race' of 1912 both boats sank. It has happened to one or both crews a number of times since. _

_3) Edgar Speyer funded the Proms. In 1914, before the declaration of war, anti-German feeling during the arms race, stirred up by the London press, forced Speyer__ to resign._

_I had thought I'd get to Sybil's ball in this chapter but setting the London Season up took longer than I thought it would. There's quite a bit more to come._

_You're a soppy lot- the kisses and proposal in the last chapter got me my most reviews ever! Thank you. This is my first full chapter off-script. Please let me know how I did._


	16. Chapter 16

_So, this chapter has actually been ready for ages, but then some lovely PM-ers sent me a link. Not being on tumblr, ironically enough I hadn't seen the post until it was pointed out to me and only then was it hurtful. Thank you anyway for your support. I assume if people find this story 'tacky' for any reason they are not reading it. You are. You are all darlings._

_Matthew and Mary will NEVER have another scene together. It's incredibly sad and if you want to continue to enjoy them together in new ways people have to write fanfic in all its outstanding, mediocre, enjoyable, down-right-terrible and lovely glory. Please encourage them :D _

_As the lovely patsan said; "N__othing will (and should) rob us of our favourite couple and of all their AUs stories."__ Thank you, m'dear. This one is for you. _

_I hope you all enjoy it._

* * *

><p>At first there had been time for conversation with everyone- an introduction, a moment of re-acquaintance, a joke shared with the more intimate of the number in passing. Then the dribble of people through the receiving line had turned into a trickle, later a stream, and for a while a flood so overwhelming that Matthew wasn't sure that he'd remember his own name, let alone anyone else's.<p>

Or what his too oft-shaken hand would feel like without joint pain.

Had he missed them in that crush of people, when he'd had to shout over the chatter to be heard by the person in front of him, the press of bodies in the normally cavernous hallway nearly enough to suffocate? Had they…she… slipped in somewhere between horsey Lady Hendry and the portly Viscount Lyndhurst? It was possible, but unlikely that he would have overlooked all three of them and surely they would have made themselves known.

The once seemingly never-ending tide of party-goers had dried up again, and people were once more coming through the door two by two, as if arranged by Noah. Having waited four or five minutes between the last pair of guests and The Right Honourable Mr and Mrs Chandler-Smyth, now greeting Cousin Violet, it was clear that the evening would soon be getting underway. Matthew paced to the open door to look out. The street was empty.

Seeing Matthew's distraction, Robert decided that he'd also had enough and was ready to go in. Anyone else was officially late.

He turned to Cora at his side, with a resigned sigh. "Are you ready to see our little one all grown up, then?"

"Oh Robert, she's been quite grown up for a while now. She'll always be our baby, but we want this for her- she'll be fabulous tonight."

"I know, I know. I just wish…" Their voices trailed off as they began to move away down the hall.

Matthew was dismayed, and turned from his place at the door. "Are we not going to wait for the girls?"

They all turned to look back at him, Robert and Cora nonplussed, Violet with a distinct smirk. It was Cora who took pity on him and explained; "Sybil has to make an entrance. She's not going to come in the front door with everybody else, Matthew."

Their young cousin's dismay seemed to increase. "So they're already in the house?"

"I had a message about 20 minutes ago that they were upstairs and ready when we were," Robert replied with a kind smile.

Matthew shook his head. "But I told Mary I'd be waiting out front with you."

More amusement was evident on Violet's face. "And so you were. Did she suggest she would see you here?"

"Well…," he thought about it. "No, I suppose not. Not in so many words."

"Then I would suggest that Mary is going to make quite an entrance herself." The enigmatic archness of her tone was not lost on Matthew, but he had no idea what it might mean. Deciding there was only one way to find out, he offered her his arm and led Violet into the ballroom, not wanting to hold things up any longer.

* * *

><p>"Your Royal Highness'," despite being part of the family for a while now, Matthew had never been in such close company with minor Royalty before and the Master of Ceremonies introduction caught him momentarily off guard. "Your Excellencies, Your Graces, My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce to you your guest of Honour this evening… Lady Sybil Crawley."<p>

Polite applause rippled through the room as Sybil appeared at the top of the stairs leading into the ballroom. Although he had seen the gown before, the complete picture that Sybil made now that she was pimped and preened for the evening was astonishing. So grown up and so very lovely.

Matthew beamed, turning to share the moment with the rest of the family. Fierce pride was obvious across their upturned faces- his mother was beaming, too. The chest of Sybil's Papa was so puffed up that Matthew feared for his shirt buttons and Cora dabbed tears from the corner of her eyes. Violet's handkerchief was in hand as well, but as Matthew caught her eye, she sniffed regally, murmuring; 'I have a cold.' Matthew smirked.

Robert paced forward to the foot of the stairs and Sybil took her cue, dropping her curtsy to the room and beginning her descent. She moved slowly but fluidly, her head held high, and Matthew could detect none of the nerves she had confided to him earlier. A few steps down, and Matthew's attention was caught by movement out of the corner of his eye. Looking up past Sybil he saw Edith and Mary…_Mary…_ flanking their sister.

Their entrance was also announced; "Lady Sybil is attended by her sisters…" _et cetera_, but Matthew heard not a word of it.

He was captivated and truly senseless to all else.

She was moving slowly, keeping pace with Edith half a dozen or so stairs behind Sybil. Eyes front and center she only deviated to look at the back of Sybil's head, the expression on her face- reflecting protectiveness, pride, or perhaps both- was fierce. Her lack of attention to the rest of the room meant that Matthew, in his unwavering focus, had a moment to take her in. To study her. To make this a memory that would last him a lifetime.

She was glorious.

And she was glowing- a glow that was highlighted by the sumptuous gold of her dress.

She was out of mourning!

* * *

><p>Isobel thought all of the girls looked lovely- Sybil was the very picture of youthful, blossoming beauty. Her rose gown highlighted her natural blush and the freshness of her dewy, young skin. The darker bodice hugged her waist and although modest enough, highlighted her curves to perfection. Despite being the youngest, Sybil was, in this way, the more developed of her sisters and the effect of her gown was to capitalise on her womanly form. It was all finished beautifully by her wide, genuine smile that telegraphed the beguiling and charismatic Sybil her family knew so well and that others would now come to learn and appreciate, Isobel was sure.<p>

Edith, the often overlooked personification of the 'Middle Child', could have stepped from the Parthenon that evening. From a boat-neck panel of amethyst and silver beading on cream lace, her pale dress gathered and fell in the tiers that covered many of the fashion plates that Season. Similarly, her buttery hair was pulled back into the popular and unfussy styling that echoed the Grecian fashions and her jewellery was simple; a single string of pearls at her neck, circlets of silver in her hair and around slim arms- but the overall collection was magnificent and all the more striking in its artlessness. Isobel decided that anyone who overlooked Edith that evening was a fool.

And Mary. Mary had always been an undeniably beautiful girl, but this evening, in colours and all her finery… Isobel was stunned. From the time they had met, over two years ago, she had been in mourning. Black had eventually given way to shades of grey and purples, but to see her go from that to the image she presented this evening, with nothing in between- no colours worn to morning tea visits or elaborate dinner dresses to family meals- was astonishing. To make her mark at a ball was quite the statement.

The dress was a work of art. The burnished gold of her under-dress matched the draped lace at her shoulders and décolletage. It was off-set by the brighter gold and elaborate filigree flowers in royal blue on the body and train, as well as the natural luminosity of her skin; pale and flawless and no longer dulled by the overshadowing gloom of society's indicator of bereavement. The medallion at the centre of the bodice would have outshone other jewellery and so, uncharacteristically, Mary wore no more than a small pair of earrings, her hair taking more of the focus in a far more elaborate style now that it was permitted.

In all, the image left Isobel fairly breathless- the three of them together was striking, each so complete in their individuality and yet so clearly bound together in the moment, a rare one of harmony and solidarity for the eldest two. For Sybil's sake, no doubt.

Murmurs around the ballroom suggested that Isobel was not the only one affected. She looked over at Matthew, wanting to share her impressions, but one look at her son and she knew he wouldn't hear a word anyone said in that moment. His eyes were transfixed. It was not hard to guess what, or rather whom, on. His mouth hung open and it seemed he was gasping for breath. If she didn't know better she would have thought him entirely gormless.

Knowing him to be entirely in love sent her heart to her throat.

Smiling, but unable to form words in that moment she nudged Cora who reluctantly tore her gaze away from where her youngest was blushing at the compliments from her father. Scowling questionably at Isobel, she turned her head to see what the elder woman was indicating. Glancing between Matthew's mesmerized visage and Mary's descending form, the sour expression left her face as any lingering questions about where Matthew's regard lay were swept away in an instant.

The two women exchanged a beaming smile as the musicians struck up the introductory passage of the first dance.

* * *

><p>Mary watched her sister take their Papa's hand as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Darling Sybil was elated- the picture of happiness and excitement. Thinking back on the same moment at her own ball, all she could remember was the anger, the disquiet and the trepidation. 10 hours earlier, over what should have been a celebratory breakfast, she had been told she was to marry Patrick.<p>

_What did I know at the time_? She asked herself, trying to recapture the moment. She had known the boy she played with as a child had become selfish and opinionated. She had known that the ever dutiful, ever respectful Anna had a hard time hiding her grimace whenever he was mentioned and was never able to meet his eyes when they passed in the corridors. She had known that he had _known_ women- he bragged about it often enough; how easy it was at Cambridge to get away with such things. How many women were prepared to _'give it up'_ to the future Earl of Grantham. She had known that the last thing in the world she wanted to do was marry him, and that it was the latest in a long list of things that she had absolutely no control over- a feeling that had always, _always_ made her resentful.

The musicians struck up the opening passage of the first dance, warning revelers that they had a few minutes to find their partners, and Sybil walked arm in arm with their Papa to the top of the room, ready to begin.

Mary was so lost in her thoughts, past and present, that she failed to notice Edith leave the staircase for the dance floor as well. It was only as the chatter became louder around her as couples amassed that she was able to force herself back into the moment, shaking her head to clear it. As she looked out over the room only one face was still upturned towards hers. Standing stationary in a sea of motion, Mary found herself caught in Matthew's fervent gaze and felt her composure slip a little as she blushed hot. Butterflies dancing, she decided that perhaps not always being in complete control of herself was something she could learn to get used to. In the right circumstances.

With a quick, shy smile she started towards him.

* * *

><p>The uncharacteristically bashful expression, as well as her small, careful steps down the remaining stairs endeared her to him even more than usual. Lady Mary Crawley, so fearless, proud and headstrong had blushed a little when receiving him for the first time this evening, out of mourning and in a very public setting.<p>

She stood before him but still he said nothing for a moment, letting his slow perusal of her dress, her gloved arms, her upswept hair and her delicate blush do the talking for him. When he met her eyes his question was forthright, his face nonplussed although pleasure danced in his eyes. "Not sitting out the first dance, then?"

Mary smiled, feeling her surety rise every moment in company with him. She was sure, wasn't she? Sure of him? Now suddenly more sure of her own abilities that evening, certainly. "I can't see any reason I should, Mr Crawley. Other than no-one has asked me."

Matthew was about to protest, but then he realised she was correct. He had assumed, and she had let him. As Cousin Violet had said, Mary had obviously planned her entrance for maximum effect and he had been fooled by all of her misdirections. He extended his arm to her and bowed a little. "Well then. May I have the pleasure, Lady Mary?"

She took his arm, squeezing it with affection- the most she could convey at this point. "The pleasure will be all mine, Mr Crawley."

They moved wonderfully well together in fluid partnership as they danced. The joy of being in one another's arms again was overwhelming, the pleasure of this otherwise very normal, public interaction was, to them, novel and held a surprising amount of chaste appeal given the liberties they were now somewhat used to taking in private. At first they were silent as Matthew allowed himself the pleasure of drinking in the sight of her and Mary allowed herself to relish being admired- something she had always enjoyed. In doing so she realised that this time, in this moment, in this dress and by this man, the admiration meant so much more.

After a while Matthew broke their silence. "You didn't tell me," he said softly. It was straightforward, but carried a hint of accusation. From seeing her that afternoon, in grey and lilac, she had emerged this evening, as if from a chrysalis, in a burst of colour. While it took his breath away, he felt rather a fool.

"Another thing you didn't ask," Mary replied, looking away over his left shoulder as they continued around the room.

"I distinctly remember my mother asking if you were to be in mourning until the anniversary of the public memorial. We were at your grandmother's, taking tea."

"But do you remember my answer?"

Matthew thought for a long moment, the length it took them to traverse one side of the ballroom. "No, actually I don't."

"That will be because I didn't give one. In fact Granny, naturally, said something that your mother found very inappropriate and all attention was diverted from me."

"I remember that, but not what caused it."

"While I prefer the Greeks, Granny, in her ruthlessness, touts the Romans; 'The display of grief makes more demands than grief itself. How few men are sad in their own company.'(1) She was answering for me, of course, in a round-about sort of way…"

"Ah yes, I can imagine my mother taking exception to that- she still doesn't know much of your circumstances, even less then, and she misses my father very much." They moved away from a couple that had danced very close into their space, spinning to get away from the intrusion. "Still, you could have told me earlier, instead of letting me bungle on about meeting a woman in black." It was clear he was quite put out.

She gave him an arch look. "And where would the fun have been in that? The look on your face earlier…" she grinned fondly at his perturbed expression, but after a moment the corners of his lips turned up, too, as if compelled by her happiness.

She continued; "Anyway I really wasn't sure I was going to go through with it until the last minute. I didn't want to steal Sybil's limelight this evening. She came up with the idea of us making our _début_, as it were, together a few months ago and I agreed in principle then. While we were waiting for her court appointment I suggested I could make my change at a less public event but she insisted she wanted it this way. Hence the mad dash for gold ribbons earlier today."

"I thought they were for Sybil," he rolled his eyes, mocking himself.

The silence fell between them again, the result of a little strain and a lot of nervous energy. The public setting was a very new thing for their attachment and despite all they knew of each other in private, for the first time in a long time Matthew couldn't quite find the right words with her.

Instead he took a deep breath and pulled her a little closer, gaining strength from the physical contact and using their hold as an excuse to look out over the other couples around them, rather than at her as he stumbled through what he wanted to say to her. "Mary…, if I haven't already told you, you look…you look incredible. Really, you took my breath away this evening, and not just in astonishment to see you in colours. Although, I do think you were right to be concerned…"

"Oh?" The pleased smile that had graced her face fell into a concerned frown.

Her flat tone suggested to him that he'd already gotten it wrong. He paused for a beat and swallowed heavily, working up the courage to pull back and look her in the eyes once more. "You certainly stole _my_ attention away from Sybil, as lovely as she looks, and I am sure I'm not the only one."

Mary's smile returned full-force and she moved closer still, rewarding him by resting her head gently, and imperceptibly to the rest of the room, against his cheek.

Matthew held her tighter, enjoying the moment and the lavender scent of her hair, but as he looked about them as they moved, he noticed just how right he had been. Gazing back in their direction were the eyes of a ballroom full of men. Men who had taken notice of the _other_ Crawley daughter who had also announced herself open to the marriage market again this evening.

One gentleman in particular, dancing just beyond her right shoulder, seemed almost to be staring him down. He danced her in the other direction.

* * *

><p>The piece soon drew to a close and the dancers broke away in pairs and small groups to await the next set. Matthew led Mary to where the family group had reconvened on one side, approaching her parents and Sybil as Edith was also led in that direction by her partner, a young man Matthew recognised but had only met once before.<p>

"Good evening," the accented voice boomed cheerily as drew Edith closer to the group.

"Fredrick, darling boy," Cora presented her cheek to her nephew, and he obliged her before shaking Robert's hand. "I hope the Limies are treating you well over at the Inns? How is the accommodation this year? Are they feeding you enough, you look thin?" (2)

"Really, Aunt Cora, I'm fine. As ever the plumbing is not what it should be and I'm missing Miss Martina's goetta, but I knew all that when I chose to become a barrister here and not at home."

"Well, we'll have you over for dinner every week during the season. I can't promise goetta, I'm not sure our cook is up to it, but then I can write and tell your mother you're eating properly without lying to her because we never _see_ you."

He smiled ruefully at her, "thank you Ma'am." He turned to where the younger part of the group had congregated, beaming at Sybil. "Sybil, little Sybbie no longer! Congratulations, you look wonderful and this evening is already a remarkable success."

"Thank you, Freddy. It's so nice of you to come."

"Where else would I be? Have you got a dance left for your cousin?"

Sybil checked her card. "Of course, perhaps the One Step before the supper dance? I don't have any more waltzes I'm afraid."

"Naturally you don't," the young American grinned winningly. (Nobody heard Edith's quiet harrumph- she still had a few waltzes to be claimed). He turned to the others, "it's great to see you looking so well Mary, and Matthew, wonderful to meet you again."

"Freddy," Mary greeted with a smile and a brief cheek kiss.

"Hello, Fredrick." The two men shook hands.

"Are you free for the next, Mary? I understand it's a bit of a shock to everybody that you're even dancing this evening so I'm hoping no one has had the chance to ask yet?"

"You're exactly right- I've not really spoken to anyone yet, so of course I'll dance with you, Freddy." They were interrupted by her mother.

"Sybil, darling, do come and re-acquaint yourself with Larry Grey- he's been dying to meet you again and he wants to dance the next with you!"

Sybil looked baffled. "Larry Grey?"

"You know, the son of Lord and Lady Merton, Mary's godparents. We haven't seen them in a few years, I think you were probably only nine or ten the last time, but Larry was already very attentive to you." Cora's expression was gleeful.

"Mama!" Mary demanded sharply, cool steel in her voice. "I'm sure Sybil's dance card is already filling up, and I know for sure that Matthew is her partner next. After that, I imagine she'd like to choose her own dance partners, isn't that right Sybil?"

"Well, yes," Sybil said, smiling her thanks to her sister but, always the peacemaker, she also turned to her mother. "I have promised to dance with Matthew and then the following to Tom Bellason, but I don't mind _meeting_ Mr Grey again and seeing if I might like to dance with him later."

"Alright darling," a slightly more subdued Cora addressed both of her daughters, acknowledging both Mary's reprimand and Sybil's response. With a nod to Mary that suggested that she had taken her point, she led Sybil away to begin the first round of introductions.

The remaining cousins fell into conversation for a time, awaiting the next dance. In between talking among themselves they were interrupted at various points by acquaintances and old friends. Many complemented Mary particularly on her dress- acknowledging her changed status in the only polite way, several of the young men, including the Duke of Kent, solicited dances from Edith and Mary, and several of the young women were likewise asked to partner Matthew or Freddy. In Matthew's case, this only occurred when subtly nudged by Mary; most often to married women that were her particular friends.

When the music began again, signalling preparations for the next dance, Matthew looked around, preparing to collect Sybil for their turn. Seeing her across the room, in the middle of a large group of young men, he turned back to Mary and rolled his eyes. "I'm off to extract your sister from a bevy of her admirers." Mary smiled in acknowledgement, and it widened as he took her hand discretely. "Will you save the supper dance for me, my darling?"

Her small nod and pleased smile sent him on his way.

* * *

><p>It was a lot later in the evening when Matthew was finally in a position to finish his obligations to the family by dancing with Cousin Violet. He considered it something of a victory as, although the girls, his mother and Cousin Cora had all been pleasant partners, getting through his dance with the ever inquisitive and not easily impressed Lady Rosamund had been something of a trial.<p>

To be fair to him, he hadn't purposefully kept the most senior member of the family waiting- in fact, he had hoped to get Rosamund and Violet over in one fell swoop before supper so that he could enjoy, or was that endure, the rest of the already exhausting event without having to keep his wits sharp. When he had solicited her for a dance before the ball he had been surprised that Violet had wanted to stay so late- their dance was the antepenultimate.

"Are you enjoying your evening, Cousin Violet?"

"Oh I suppose so, Matthew. It's all rather tiresome when one has seen so many Seasons, and so many debutantes, but Sybil, of course, makes a delightful spectacle. Thankfully Cora has managed to do her justice." She studied his face for a long moment as she made her next comment; "I think she might have quite as successful a Season as Mary had."

Matthew sported a rueful grin in reply. "I imagine she was _very_ successful. If she looked anything like she does tonight…" his eyes flittered away from Violet's, briefly scanning the side of the room he was facing to see if he could catch sight of her. He'd lost her in the course of the last two dances.

Violet saw his eyes wander and decided to take pity on the young man. "Mary was widely admired, and would probably have been wildly pursued if we hadn't made it clear to her that her fate was already set. Patrick was…a mistake. To say the least. I'm not sure what sort of man she would have ended up with if she'd have been able to make her own choices then, but I know the sort of man she needs now."

"Oh yes," he answered distractedly. Through the course of the dance they had turned to another part of the room and still he could not see her.

Violet noticed his inattention and, guessing its cause, pursed her lips in a fit of piqué. If the stupid boy would just listen to her, he'd be all the closer to finding his quarry. "This may come as a surprise, but I feel I have to say it all the same; what she needs, of course, is a tradesman."

"Yes, of course you're right Cousin Violet." _Where was she?_

Violet mentally shook her head. He was a fool. "Someone a little rough around the edges who will really shake her up a bit, show her what life is all about and appreciate what it's like to live hand to mouth. Perhaps she'd know what it was to have aching feet at the end of a hard day." With that she purposefully miss-stepped, tilting forward and jamming the heel of her new court shoe onto Cousin Matthew's shiny black brogue.

He jumped back in alarm and began apologising immediately, suspecting his own inattention rather than the machinations of the septuagenarian, just as she had planned.

"Do pay attention, Cousin Matthew! Really, if you have no flair for the dance I beg that you not ask to partner me in future. Carson has never once miss-stepped, and he didn't have your schooling."

"I'm terribly sorry, Cousin Violet I was…lost in thought. To be honest I've rather…"

She raised her brows. "Lost track of Mary? She'll be on the balcony," Violet answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "She always kept these dances free so that she could escape for a while. In the past it was expected of her to dance the final with Patrick. I imagine it was because she felt the need to work up to that."

"I see." Matthew said, looking relieved to know where she was, but saddened that she had ever had to adopt such tactics.

"Well, you've done your duty- we have danced. Please don't feel you need to stand on ceremony." Violet hinted, inclining towards the French doors.

Matthew continued to lead them their movement regardless, scowling thoughtfully. "Do you think I'd be welcome?"

Violet contemplated him seriously. "Has she given you an answer yet?"

"No. No, she hasn't. She says she needs more time to be sure if she wants marriage again at all."

"I see." Violet stopped dancing, pulling Matthew to a halt as well. Right in the middle of the ballroom. "'_When widows exclaim loudly against second marriage, I would always lay a wager that the man, if not the wedding-day, is absolutely fixed on'_."

Matthew smiled hopefully, appreciating the sentiment. He decided that Mary was wrong- it wasn't the Romans Violet was fond of, it was satire in all forms. "Henry Fielding?"

She nodded, "I knew there was some intelligence somewhere. A great man, and an amusing one, and in this case I feel he may be perfectly correct. Mary _is_ in love with you."

Matthew looked shocked for a moment, before looking around trying to determine how many other people may have been listening to their conversation. They were stationary in the middle of a dance floor full of couples, after all. Only one couple seemed to be paying them any attention, but he decided they probably weren't close enough to hear Violet as she continued;

"Marriage is normally a long business for our kind of people, Mary was very lucky she didn't have to live 40, 50 years with Patrick, but it was the only way out for her, no matter what his habits. She wouldn't have been the first. I'm an old woman, Matthew, and I would like to see my granddaughter with the right man." She looked at him steadily. "I would be delighted to see her looking forward to a_ happy_ married life."

Matthew looked down, always slightly uncomfortable by Cousin Violets forthrightness and never more so than now. "I want that more than anything, but do you think it would be right for me to throw over all her objections, to dismiss her concerns and force the issue?"

"No, I believe you are a man of honour, and you said you would give her time…" she trailed off.

Matthew appraised her, waiting for her to finish her thought. When it became clear she wasn't going to, he pushed a little. "But you don't agree?"

"You _have_ given her time, but Mary must try for happiness where she can, and I believe she has had long enough." With that she looked pointedly at the French doors before leaving him stranded on the dance floor.

As he moved off he knocked shoulders with a man who had moved into his path. His thoughts already on the balcony with Mary, he patted the man on the shoulder. "I am sorry," he apologised, knowing he wasn't in the wrong but suspecting that the gentleman was drunk.

* * *

><p>Matthew's eyes took a while to adjust to the darkness of the evening after the blazing lights of the ballroom but even when he was sure that his night vision had returned he still couldn't see anyone on the balcony. He walked the length of the wall that looked out over the garden, contemplating the stairs and the idea that Mary may have gone into the grounds below. If she had, she really did want to be alone, no matter what her grandmother said.<p>

If that were the case, he would just wait here- no point going in to face Violet only to tell her he hadn't carried out her orders. Self-preservation was high on Matthew's list of priorities this evening and she'd only give him another piece of her mind. Her mind…the one that thought that Mary loved him.

She _loved_ him. Her omniscient Granny believed that _Mary_ loved _him_. He slumped forward, resting his forearms against the cold stone of the low wall, staring off into the darkness beyond. He'd thought it was possible, certainly he'd hoped for it, but for Violet to be so sure- he really didn't know what to think. Until he heard it from Mary herself, he'd be happy…well, more like content, to bask in the knowledge that they had come a long, _long_ way- she no longer actively disliked him, they were certainly friends, they enjoyed spending time with one another, and she enjoyed the kisses and caresses they had shared so far. She had even intimated that she wanted more.

She had not told him she loved him, and she hadn't agreed to marry him. Yet.

He sighed heavily and then jumped as a hand came to rest between his shoulders.

"That was a heavy sigh," Mary murmured as she came to rest against the wall next to him, facing the other way.

Was it her grandmother's words or being startled that made his heart race? Matthew couldn't tell as he turned only his head to look at her. "I was looking for you. Cousin Violet said you'd be out here. Where were you?"

She tilted her head back, looking at the stars. "In the shadows. You can stand in the spots between the doors and the light from either side makes it impossible to see in the blackness between. It's a trick I learned at my own ball."

"Were you hiding from me?" He asked, running his eyes up the length of her neck so beautifully displayed and luminous against the surrounding darkness.

She smiled, but kept her gaze on the night sky. "No, not you. Not specifically, at least…"she paused in thought, "and probably least of all from you, but I did want some time."

Matthew nodded to himself and heaved up from the wall. "I'll leave you then."

Her hand reached out and grabbed him arm, staying him. "No, don't go. Stay a minute and then we'll both go and dance the finale."

"Is that an invitation, or a demand, my lady?" Matthew smirked.

Mary did look at him now- out of the corner of her eye and without moving her head. Her tone was amused and matter-of-fact. "As if you were going to dance it with anyone else."

As the musicians began the penultimate piece Matthew took her hand from his arm, stroking the back of it with his thumb for a minute as they listened. The tiny movement made Mary shift a little. She felt unsettled but not disturbed and she certainly didn't want to pull away. That his tiniest of gestures could affect her so much was a revelation to her.

She shivered as a wave of pleasure ran up her spine and he moved closer. For a moment she thought to reassure him that she wasn't cold, but then it became apparent that he hadn't misunderstood her reaction when he began placing, small open-mouthed kisses along the length of her extended neck.

For a moment Mary thought how inappropriate this was, and how vulnerable they were, not more than 30 paces from a room full of people, but she had always chosen this time to take her air for a number of reasons. Yes, she had needed space in the past to prepare for her grand performance- happily closing a ball with her husband, but also guests that were inclined to stay this late were unlikely to miss the final dances to take their air. She was generally guaranteed privacy.

Mary inhaled deeply as he moved to her collarbone, pulling ever so gently at her skin with his lips. As a reward she pushed her fingers through his silky locks, revelling in the softness as it flowed around her fingers. After a moment he rested his head in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply, calming himself and her, and her hands fell to her sides before slipping inside his jacket to hold him close.

After a moment of letting the music wash over them she spoke quietly. "I don't know this one."

Matthew pressed a final kiss to where shoulder and neck met and straightened up. "Actually I rather like it as an instrumental. It's _You Planted a Rose in the Garden of Love,_ or something."

Mary let out an amused snort. "You can't be serious. Nobody would call a song that, and if they did it would be a flop."

"Well he did. Same man who wrote 'When Irish Eyes are Smiling,' (3) I'm sure Sybil's enjoying it." Matthew smirked.

Mary quirked a brow at the seemingly random aside but let the comment go. Of course Sybil was enjoying her ball. "Can you manage one more, do you think."

Matthew's smile turned adoring. "You are my strength this evening."

She was amused again. "Did you know that a hundred years ago, a third dance at the same ball for a couple was tantamount to announcing their engagement?" Her throw-away comment registered with her suddenly and too late to be taken back. Her mirth fell away quickly and she gazed up at him unwaveringly, the moment becoming heavy with meaning.

* * *

><p>She looked so shocked by what she had just said that it took all of Matthew's strength not to pull her to him and taste her again with his lips. He was in a state of near intoxication from her skin and her scent and the evening in general and he had been trying very hard not to push, but if she was just going to throw it out there like that…<p>

"Oh God, Mary. Please don't joke. Don't make it little. Not when I'm trying to give you time."

She looked ashamed. "I am so, so sorry."

He shook his head, looking away. "You know, Cousin Violet came to me and told me to marry you…" he trailed off.

Mary was confused. She'd only asked for time, what more did her family want? "When was this?"

"Just before I stepped out here."

"What did you say?"

Matthew smiled ruefully. "She didn't give me much time for rebuttal." He sighed, "I'm happy to wait for you, but Mary I do want to be in your life, father your children and secure your future. I'll wait for you forever, however much I might not want to."

Mary leaned in and kissed him with a gentle reverence and he was undone by her. It still wasn't an answer, but it was an affirmation. When she pulled back he noticed the tears that brimmed in her chocolate eyes and, staying silent for a moment, he hoped that she would speak.

The sound of the musicians playing the opening notes of the final dance drifted out to them and Matthew decided that a little humorous push was in order to settle both their nerves. It was clear that she was too overcome to answer him now but he was suddenly and irrepressibly sure of her as he had never been before, even with the words unspoken.

"Dance with me?" he asked softly.

"Again?" she replied, sniffing a little, her eyes intent on his. This action now meant something to both of them.

"Did your dear mama ever tell you not to answer a question with a question? Dance with me." It was now a statement.

"Yes." She replied in kind, looking him full in the face as if willing him to understand her. It was enough for that evening. Her hand in his, Mary allowed Matthew to lead her inside and to the dance floor.

* * *

><p>It took the length of the ballroom and a mildly insulting observance of Matthew's that the colour and shape of Agatha Clark's <em>ensemble<em> made her look like a head of broccoli before they were able to laugh themselves out of the atmosphere that they had brought in with them from the balcony. Once back in the swing of the celebrations they were able to converse as they had done the rest of evening, drawing more gazes and further remarks on their closeness.

The relationship between the two of them- their dances, quiet conversations and meaningful glances, had not gone unnoticed by any of the guests that evening and they were sure to be a talking point over tea across London the next day.

There was one particular set of eyes that was now beginning to trouble Matthew as he realised he had noticed them studying him, particularly when he was with Mary, a number of times that evening. It was also the 'gentleman' that had been in his way earlier, and his partner was watching them closely, too.

He turned with Mary in his arms so that he could indicate the couple with his head while keeping their dance going. "Who is that dark chap, over there? Dancing with the woman in yellow?"

Mary looked, raised a brow, favouring their audience with a sardonic look and then returned her attention to Matthew, cutting them. "That, my darling boy, is the Duke of Crowborough."

Matthew looked amused. "I see. Well then it's not because I have a challenger for you that he's been giving me black looks all evening, then."

"Oh I don't know," she preened, teasing him. "He might not be jealous because of me, per se, but he thought he had a pretty good run at getting his hands on Downton before you came along."

"Ah yes. Pity. And his partner?"

"Lady Jessica Porter, the only child of the Duke and Duchess of Winchester. Their estate would be a nice coup for Crowborough- it would certainly sure up the coffers of Crowborough Park, perhaps ease the creditors for a while even before he father dies."

"Lady Jessica Porter? Her ball is later in the season, isn't it? One of the ones we're going to?"

"Yes. She's something of a friend of Sybil's, although she's quite a simple girl, really. Probably a good thing given what her life will be like. She'll be presented in six weeks, and I imagine her presentation ball will also see the announcement of her engagement. The Duke had been visiting with her father since before I refused him, laying the groundwork ready for her debut just in case."

"Do you think she knows?" Matthew asked, wondering just how clueless the girl was.

Mary shook her head. "Not at all."

"Will you tell her?"

"No," she was resolute, although she did feel for the girl. "If it's not him, it'll be some other rake or old duffer. As I said, she's a simple thing- she's not witty or clever so the good ones will look for stimulation elsewhere. The ones that are left will be the ones who aren't worried about what she thinks or says. She hasn't got the fortitude to turn anyone away, and her parents aren't the caring sort, so she'll go to the first suitable offer. He'll be titled, her parents will see to that, but it will be a title in want of a fortune."

"Don't you feel sorry for her?"

"Of course, but it will be her or it will be someone else. Once it was me. Her lack of wit might not be a bad thing- she'll be comfortable and just get on with it, rather than struggling with it like I did."

Matthew looked down at her earnestly. "_We_ are still struggling with it, together, and I'll need to meet Crowborough properly sometime soon. It looks as if he might have a few things to say to me as well, doesn't it?"

* * *

><p><em>(1) Lucius Annaeus Seneca<em>

_(2) __For various reasons I think 'Cousin Freddy,' famed for not sitting at a dirty little desk in Ripon, has to be a maternal cousin. I'm not sure how likely it is to have an American studying at Lincoln's Inn in 1914, but when he moved into his room he proudly pinned a star spangled banner to his door. He also makes everyone celebrate the 4th of July with him and tried to teach them to make cornbread with disastrous consequences :D_

_Cora might have English family, but this is more fun._

__(3) Ernest Ball (music)__

_I've made a Pinterest storyboard. There's not much on it yet, might never be, but ideas for the girl's dresses are all there. I realised recently that a certain someone looks bloody amazing in gold (and red and blue and green…but gold!)- I couldn't resist. Pinterest (/anniellaeyes /for-ye-devour-widows-houses) if you're interested._

_Let me know what you thought :D_


	17. Chapter 17

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, PM'd or otherwise been in touch. Yes, we're still going. I promise. My thanks to Patsan for the encouragement._

_Unbeta'd- all (the many) mistakes are my own. I've split what I had thought this chapter would be in to two- so this is slightly less that my usual update length. I think you'll forgive me as this is something many have been asking for- I hope you enjoy it :-D_

* * *

><p>With closed eyes and purposefully, even breathing she could block out everything around her and still hear it- underneath the clinking glasses, the shrill laughter and the too-loud conversations, the moment when the distant patter began, sending her heart racing in anticipation. Mary braced her hands against the railings, waiting and listening as the patter changed, deepening and separating. Now, instead of one long rumble it was many individual staccato thuds- off beat, on beat, the paradiddles of an incompetent percussion section.<p>

As it got louder, closer, the sounds around her fell away. Not as she was better able to shut them out, but because others were also now, momentarily, caught up in the approaching action. Deviating long enough from their socialising to remember why they were supposedly there.

Mary leaned further forward, eyes still closed, straining towards the action, her elbows and forearms taking her weight on the grandstand balustrade, perfect posture for once allowed to slip. Blood thrumming through her veins with the acceleration of her heart, she set her feet solidly as she preparing for the euphoric rush that accompanied the movement on track. They were much too far away to actually feel any real disturbance in the air, unfortunately, but the acceleration of her heartbeat reached fever pitch as the racing horses thundered by, leaving her panting lightly, as if she too had been whipped up by the jockeys. The only thing that came close was the sensation of Diamond carrying her at similar speeds. The only thing that came close in polite society, anyway.

"What are you thinking of?"

The voice at her shoulder made her jump and gasp. Jolting unsteadily around to face Matthew she drew her hand to her heaving chest, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, panting even more heavily with fright on top of her fleeting exhilaration. The things she had just been thinking of.

He could read it in her eyes when his gaze captured hers, her dilated pupils struggling to focus in the bright sunshine, and he was affected by her hedonistic moment, too. Bitter chocolate and stormy sky were barely visible as they gazed at each other in the aftermath of Mary's moment of intoxicating sensation and Matthew's voyeurism of its effects.

"Matthew, my dear boy." Robert's booming voice was far too cheerful for the heady moment. "We weren't sure you were going to make it."

Mary blinked, and the rest of the world appeared around her again. Her father and mother, Granny, Edith in her absurd orange number, Rosamund in her giant hat and a whole crowd of people including Sybil and several young men some way off, were surrounding her and yet of course it was Matthew, the only person who could read her, who had witnessed her embarrassing momentary lack of poise.

It had been a month or so since his last visit to London and he was late. Mary had given up on him when he didn't show up that morning to escort her from her home on Leigh Street to her parents' house ready for the day at the Royal Ascot as he'd said he would. He hadn't even telephoned. Now here he stood, three hours after the Royal Procession, somehow conforming to the Enclosures strict dress code despite looking decidedly and endearingly windswept.

"I wasn't entirely sure either as I was desperately chasing down some paperwork that was due to arrive yesterday and only got in this morning. I missed my initial train, but managed to get the later one by the skin of my teeth." Mary watched him fiddle with his tie and shift uncomfortably before attempting to change the subject. "Does anyone have a form book? I'm afraid I've rather missed studying up for this one."

"Busy with a case?" Robert pressed, not seeing Matthew's misdirection for what it was.

"Rather." Matthew slid a meaningful look towards Mary, indicating to her that there was something to discuss, but not in front of her father. Turning back to Robert, both Mary and Matthew realised that for some reason Matthew's work had piqued her father's interest today of all days, and they were not going to get off so easily. Matthew decided to give him a bit more to go on, but nothing that could be followed back to the work he was doing for Mary. Not yet. Not until everything was in place.

"We're moving in on something quite big, and I wanted to make sure everything was watertight before I came down."

Robert began to say more, but Mary cut across him. "Really Papa, Matthew came down to have a bit of fun. Let's not spoil it with talk of his _work_," she drawled. "Anyway, the Worleys' might hear you- you know how they feel about the working classes." She shot Matthew an amused smirk as her father looked guiltily behind him. Robert may have gotten somewhat used to his Middle Class heir, but others had not, and Mary was well able to play up her own snobbish tendencies and former opinions when necessary, without looking the least bit suspicious.

On turning back to the conversation, Robert could see the relief on Matthew's face and decided that his heir probably _was_ working too much and that he should let the subject drop. Conceding the point to his daughter he clapped Matthew on the back and looked around the crowd for a moment. "Well I'm sure we can scare you up a form book from somewhere. Merton? Do you have a catalogue handy?" he asked, grabbing the attention of the man at his other side, who had looked to be in conversation with his wife.

Mary stepped away from the railing, holding a folded pamphlet out to him. "Here, you can have mine."

"Won't you be needing it again?" Matthew asked. Seeing that he was accommodated, Robert moved away to talk to Merton, now that he had his attention, and Edith moved closer, into the space vacated by her father, perusing her own form guide with an intensity it did not require. She snorted, offering Matthew a sardonic look as she ignored her sister's presence entirely. Matthew knew exactly what was coming.

"Mary doesn't use the guides. She goes by the horses name or which of the jockeys' colours go best with her outfit."

"Well at least I'd be able to find a match. What colour goes with orange anyway? Not that pink you've chosen, that's for sure," Mary shot back almost instantly.

"It's salmon, not orange," Edith tutted, shaking her head and trying to appear resigned rather than offended by her sister's words. "I know you've been out of the fashion loop for a while but you really must attempt to catch up now."

Matthew attempted to stifle his laughter as he watched Mary silently appraise her sister with a characteristic raised eyebrow, her expression more cutting than any further words could be. It was not that he thought Edith looked bad. Indeed, all of the Crawley women looked wonderful, as usual, and it was still a revelation to him to see Mary in anything other than her mourning attire. Today she was resplendent in a cream lace garment while Edith was, it was true, a little bolder in an orange-y dress with rose trims. Women's fashion was not something he knew a huge amount about- he liked what he liked and didn't give it much more thought than that. No, it wasn't their fashion choices that amused him but the sisters' constant sniping. He wondered if he'd miss it if they ever stopped. Not that he was ever likely to find out.

"I made significantly more than you at the Derby, though, did I not." Edith made no reply to Mary, she merely rolled her eyes, but Matthew was intrigued.

"And why did you choose that horse? The name or the jockey colours?"

"The name. Actually, I backed the winner, Dunbar to win. The family normally plays place bets but I had a good feeling about this one."

"And what was the attraction?"

"Edith had a friend, Judith Dunbar, during her season. She and the horse looked quite similar so I thought it fitting," Mary sniggered as Edith turned on her heal and marched off in pique.

Matthew shook his head ruefully. "You shouldn't rile her, you know. She's desperate for a little positive attention from you."

"I know. Sad isn't it?" Mary asked nonchalantly, scanning the crowd. A thought seemed to strike her and with twinkling eyes she turned back to Matthew. "What about you? Are you desperate for a little positive attention from me?"

He now also looked around at the surrounding crowd. There was no-one really close enough to hear them but he lowered his voice and leaned closer anyway. "You know I am. Always."

"Well then, did you want to lay a bet?" she asked a little louder, the gleam still present in her eyes. "Perhaps you'd like to see some of your front-runners in the staging area before you put any of that hard earned lawyer's salary down? I'll let Mama know we're going for a walk."

* * *

><p>They ambled as they walked around the grandstand away from the betting booth, taking their time being together. As he had missed a number of races, Mary had convinced Matthew to put a reasonable amount of money down in a one off bet on the year's new race, the Bessborough Stakes, and had done the same herself when he was finished.<p>

Now walking close together, but not so close as to be inappropriate, Matthew longed for her to take his arm, to be able to pretend at least that they were engaged, but there were so many of her friends here, or at least, so many people that she knew, that it just was not possible. Not as things stood.

"So what really held you up this morning?" Mary asked, straightening her hat, trying not to appear as if she had been put out by his effectively standing her up.

"I was waiting for a number of affidavits to be returned from the notary." Although Matthew had apologised already, he still owed her this explanation, and it was something they needed to discuss, anyway.

"Affidavits?"

"Sworn statements from a number of key people involved with Patrick and his friends," he explained. "It turns out that some haven't been paid or kept in the manner to which they had grown accustomed since his death. In the last two years a number of grievances have developed."

"And they were prepared to talk to you, despite what they do? Despite their lifestyles?" To say Mary was surprised was an understatement. Murray has suggested even getting near these people would be difficult, let alone having them complete paperwork!

"I'm not looking to make a legal case with these statements. At least, not yet. In the first place I will bring them to the attention of the Duke. I had them notarised to guarantee their authenticity and that should be enough to scare him. If not, there is enough worrying information, without disclosing the names of others, to get the police involved in investigating the Duke. It will be him that they want, that they can make a public example of, not the working classes."

Mary nodded slowly. "No one reads the papers to learn about the perversions of the lower classes, they imagine they are all morally corrupt anyway."

"Exactly," Matthew was happy that she had caught on so quickly. It was an element of the plan he was not quite certain of, having not moved in Society circles for long. Mary had just confirmed for him that these were likely the thoughts of the fashionable, and so he judged that he was probably on the right track.

"The affidavits had to be voluntary, so we couldn't offer to pay them, but there are a number of assurances that I had to make that, should their statements help us win, we will be liable to uphold. I had everything signed and notarised here in London with solicitor that the firm do some work with, Mr Swire. He will attest that everything in the documents is executed on both sides, after the fact."

"But ultimately, what we want is to put them out of their business and homes. They agreed to this? What do they want from us?"

"Yes they agreed to it, because we will be offering reasonable compensation. Not a huge amount, but more than they would get if they didn't help us and we won anyway. They are unhappy with the way things are, the Duke is apparently not as liberal a master as Patrick. He is content to see things fall into disrepair, bills and wages go unpaid. A lifelong lease on a house you cannot maintain is not such as prize, especially in the type of business these people are in. People are less inclined to…visit. Especially people of the sort of standing they need to…entertain…to turn a profit. As it stands they are willing to move on, but have no money and no way to do so without us."

"So, we have a plan?" Mary asked hopefully.

"We have a plan," was the firm reply. "I need to meet the Duke of Crowborough as soon as possible to execute it. That was the rush, you see. You said that Lady Jessica's ball is the one that we are attending tomorrow?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And so we'll need everything together and ready to go. You still believe that their engagement will be announced then?"

"I'm almost certain. Apparently Jessica was boasting of it in front of Sybil and several other girls at tea the other day. She will be the first of their circle to be ensnared- she seems to think it's some sort of achievement," Mary shook her head in wonder, unaware of the effect her words were having on Matthew.

"Ensnared? Is that how you think of marriage now?" He looked at his shoes, frowning at the scuff marks even as he kicked at the grass as they walked.

It took a moment for his tone and question to register, along with the fact that he had dropped back from her side, and was now standing, a few paces behind her, looking all of a sudden quite lost and alone.

"Oh Matthew." She could not stand to see his face so forlorn. Looking about her she noted that, not only was much of the surrounding attention diverted towards the track, but that they were close to the stairs of the grandstand. Sizing up Matthew again, she realised there was only one course of action.

"Mary!?" He exclaimed as she grabbed his hand and began pulling him towards the underside of the grandstand structure.

"Shh," she hissed back, manoeuvring him into the shadows. "Do you want everybody to see us?"

"Well, I don't…" he stammered, unsure of her intentions.

"Trust me, you don't." She replied as she pressed up on her toes, running her hands up his arms to brace herself and kissing him lightly in apology.

Though the gesture had begun as a small apology for upsetting him, the feel of his strong arms underneath her fingertips and the delicious pressure of his lips made her breath hitch and let her know that it had become something else.

They separated briefly before quickly falling into a second, more sensuous kiss. Heart pounding, blood rushing, her thoughts were once more akin to those exhilarating ones he had shaken her from earlier. Matthew's thoughts were obviously not far behind.

He pulled back from her kiss if not from her arms. "Uh, Mary…" Oh, God. He wished she'd stop- they were more or less in public, at a society event and anybody…_everybody_ who was _anybody_… could, at any moment, discover them, but at the same time he never wanted her to stop. He never wanted to let go of her- to give her up to the rest of the world.

"What?" She licked her lips, running her fingertips around his still mussed collar and into his hair. She was mesmerized once again by hedonism and lost to all but sensation. He tried to hold himself taut and her hand fell away in response. It was clear to him that she had forgotten where they were, so it was up to him to keep them honest.

But it was oh, so difficult. When Mary's hand began to travel upwards again, stroking and coaxing, Matthew caught it and brought it to his chest. "I don't think you should do that anymore," he whispered huskily.

"Why?" her voice was equally deep and shaky and it undid him.

"Because," he dipped under the brim of her hat, his lips barely brushing her earlobe. "It makes me want to do this."

He captured her mouth again. There was no resistance and this time he pushed for her to open up to him immediately, holding her off balance so that she had to rely on him to keep her upright and she seemed ready to surrender willingly. Despite initially being the one to hold them back, he was now utterly shameless, overwhelmed by her readiness to let him have his way.

He stole all of Mary's thoughts and senses at first and yet, as their embrace progressed, she became an active participant, shifting the angle and changing the intensity, taking his bottom lip between their own and nipping at it gently. His arms moved to steady her, to cradle and support rather than dominate, and their kiss became something else again- something special and tender. Somehow it was now peaceful, and most of all loving, as if the eye of a storm had passed.

When it came to a natural conclusion Mary moved back a little, breathlessly resting her back against the wooden shoring of the grandstand behind her. Matthew didn't let her go far.

"Ensnared," he breathed.

Mary looked absolutely and deliciously befuddled as she licked her lips, breathing deeply. "What."

"Ensnared is what you have done to me," he whispered fiercely, staring at her, willing her to understand him. "You've entangled my senses. I am spellbound by you and attentive to your every measure. I love you, and if being married to you is to be ensnared, then I'm willing to be trapped."

Mary shook her head, her expression jaded and disbelieving. "To be trapped is to be imprisoned…"

She couldn't hold his gaze any longer but Matthew was relentless and when her head dipped so that she could hide behind the brim of her hat, he pushed it back, dislodging pins and giving him room to find her eyes once again.

"Yes, but to be trapped by you, by love, is to be held captive willingly. Do you love me?" he demanded.

"Yes," her answer was simple- it was a surprisingly easy give away. Although she had never told him so before, she had told others and she had felt it for months.

While she seemed nonchalant, her answer shocked the hell out of Matthew. Its artlessness, the lack of hesitation and the surety, took him completely off guard. "You do?"

She shrugged, and smiled a little bit, looking down timidly. "Yes. I love you."

"Oh, my darling." All the fight left Matthew as he embraced her again, pulling her flush against his body in happiness and sheer relief. Others had told him she did, and he had hoped it was so, even had a little confidence that it was, but to hear her say the words was elating. "Then, could you not want to be ensnared by me? You would be my captive, as I would be yours, but we would be able to be honest about our feelings. To be able to _act_ on them. Surely _that_ would be freeing."

She laughed a little bitterly at that. "Freeing? I've never really known what it means to be free. When I was a child of course it was Mama, or nanny, occasionally Papa that curtailed me. Seen and not heard. Admired, held up as Downton's princess, but rarely spoken to and certainly never listened to. Even as I grew, had independence of though, family and tradition meant everything, and the wants of a young _girl_ meant nothing. So I was dutiful, behaved well, took pride in my home and care of the tenants and my reward for that was to be passed off to Patrick." She paused, looking beyond him without seeing. "It would be different with you, I know that, but would I really be free?"

Matthew chose not to implore her at this moment because if there was one thing he knew about this woman, and he prided himself on knowing many things, it was that she would make up her own mind in the end. Instead he took his cue from her and spoke honestly. "I can't tell you there won't be any restraint. I would be foolish to do so. There is always family, and tradition, the weather, the law," he gestured around them, "society and their calendar of events. So I grant you, total freedom will never be possible… but I promise you that one of the things I love most about you is your independence of spirit. It is something I will cherish and encourage and never stand in the way of."

Mary looked hopeful, but couldn't stop herself from saying, "But I might want to curtail yours. I'm not sure how much of your independence I would be able to take. Not after Patrick. I might need to know you're mine, even if it's irrational…"

"And I would be happy to reassure and prove to you that I want to be yours alone." He paused, and took a deep breath, deciding that yes, this could be the moment. "Do you think that you could bear to have me, my darling? By your side, for always?"

She was silent, contemplative for a moment, and his heart was in his mouth, watching her face breathlessly for any hint of her answer. After a moment that felt like years for Matthew, Mary began to nod, lightly and slowly. His face broke into a blinding grin and, catching sight of it, Mary smiled as well, nodding with a little more conviction.

"Yes?"

"Yes. I'll marry you," she giggled slightly as he pulled her into his arms and off the ground as he kissed her exuberantly. Pulling back she gave him a coy look. "Even though you never did ask me properly."

He rolled his eyes and began to get to his knees, smirking. It was absurd- the question was already asked, sort of, and answered, but she could have anything she wanted at this point. His movement was stopped by her touch under his elbow, pressuring him to rise again. She took his hand in hers and smiled up at him as she shook her head slightly. "No, no. I've made you wait long enough and I've given you my answer."

He grinned at her again, barely able to believe that all of his dreams had come true. Pulling her towards him once again, he stooped to kiss her lips, and as he did, the crowd around them erupted in cheers.

Matthew jumped back as if he'd been shot, looking around him for the source of the noise. Mary also looked bewildered, and her hand rose to her hat, trying to repair the damage he had inflicted. Even if they had been caught she wanted to appear unruffled.

It took a moment, but their shared realisation that no one had found them out, caused both to laugh in blessed relief. He took her hand to reassure them both.

"What do you think all that was about?" Mary asked, scanning the crowds that were visible if she peeked around the edge of the grandstand.

Matthew listened carefully to the cheers and conversation he could pick out from around and above them in the grandstand. After a moment, and with a little laugh, he began pulling her back towards the crowd. "I think, my darling, that that was the end of the race." He puffed up a little and smirked at her while lengthening his pace back towards the Royal Enclosure. "And, from what I just heard, my horse just came in!"

"Which horse?" She asked, laughing breathlessly as she was forced to skip and stumble, attempting to keep up with his pace as he pulled her along behind him in his excitement.

"Good and Gay!"

"Good and Gay?" she echoed, pulling him to a stop. "That was my horse! 5 pounds on to win."

"Really?" He laughed fondly. "What was the deciding factor- jockey colours or the name?"

"Actually, Edith missed one off that list- Good and Gay is owned by the Astors'. Supporting them is a sure fire way to get my mother's back up," she replied flippantly.

Matthew shook his head ruefully. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Marry me, apparently," She flirted, unable to keep the delighted smile from her face, no matter how hard she tried.

"Quite so!"

"And why did you choose him?" Matthew looked confused, so Mary clarified; "Good and Gay, why did you choose that horse? Were his stats that good, or did you like the fact that the Astor blue matches your eyes?"

Matthew brought her hand to his mouth for a kiss- a public gesture he now felt free to indulge in despite the fact that they were now in full view of the Enclosure. "I hadn't noticed that, actually, but I'm very glad you did." Mary blushed slightly. "Actually for me it _was_ the name. I'm spending the day with you, so I knew it would be good, and I knew I was going to be happy."

Mary's smile turned thoughtful, her eyes serious now even as they crinkled in that way he loved. "And are you, Matthew? Happy?"

He was solemn now, too, and very firm. "Yes. Are you?"

She thought about it for a moment, the enormity of her decision and what it meant for her…_them_. "Yes," she smiled up at him softly, although genuine and happy again. "Let's go and tell them, shall we?"

* * *

><p><em>The names of the 1914 winning horses are real- <em>Dunbar_ and _Good and Gay_. If you know where I got the inspiration for Edith's friend's name, Judith Dunbar, virtual cookies to you!_

_Pictures of the outfits are again on Pinterest; /anniellaeyes/for-ye-devour-widows-houses/_

_Let me know your thoughts._


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